That encounter at Starbucks.

A hot cup against nervous hands
keeps me acutely aware that my heart is panicking.
I've had you in my arms a hundred times,
Said more that a million words,
But when you walk in the door,
You're suddenly too cool for me.

I stare at my cup, my hands.
They're no help. They're on your side.
My conscience tells me that this is a mistake.
I calmly tell it to fuck off.

My mother warned me about this.
Probably where my conscience got the idea.
We both know she never liked you.
"Don't take two steps back."
But no one hopes for relapse.

Without making eye-contact, you're in front of me.
The scene is familiar.
But everything is different because I know that the hands holding your drink have held someone else's.

Do fingertips leave fingerprints on fingers?
I swear that I could see them.
But she wasn't in your eyes.

"I still love you" flew from my lips like duct tape ripped from a hostage's mouth.
And just like that, I left everything to you;
My nerves, my patience, my passion, and my hope.
It was yours and I wanted it back.
Because all of a sudden my conscience and my mother made sense.

I'm only telling you this so you can let go of the sick satisfaction of breaking my heart.
I did that myself.
One afternoon at Starbucks.

Behind the Counter.

Behind the Counter.

Dressed in the oppressive black

that marks a minimum-wage worker.

I drive to work before the early risers leave dreamland.

55mph in town isn’t a problem when the cops aren’t even up yet.

Slipping on an apron,

Why am I protecting a $5 shirt?

The hum of the machines,

Still alone, but no longer in silence.

The pot brews,

The cookies bake,

The tea seeps,

Thermometers collaborated.

The sun is my timer.

When it’s up, it’s too late,

People without their fix are unforgiving.

They tend to forget that what they want

is on my side of the counter.

However, white collars running late write my paychecks.

Some faces are blurred,

I don’t care, to them I’m a personified coffee pot.

The smile they get is just as commercial as the black crack I serve them.

10am is why I come to work at 7.

People who aren’t in a hurry.

These are the socializers.

I know all of their names, as well as their orders.

They want to chat and I want to listen.

How surprised they would be

If they arrived just 3 hours earlier.

After two years,

I can predict any order when they walk in the door.

To really know someone

Is to pour their coffee.

Oct 15, 2012

Lucky. (Sermon for Sept 12)

I grew up in a strict home
With a list of rules
... made Leviticus look like a nice poem
(ok, that's a little dramatic).

So if I walked in the house after a day of school,
Just to hear "I'm giving you a new rule"
I might have cried.

"Love one another."
"That's it? What's the catch?"
"No catch"
"...we'll see about that..."

But you see
"No catch" isn't synonymous for easy.
With only 3 words
We don't expect complicity.

Love. One. Another.
It doesn't sound hard!
But when "one another" means
Absolutely "every other*
Palms get sweaty and the pressure starts.

It's the difficult moments in life that try us
And it doesn't help that
Our differences are highlighted
With retractable yellow markers.

....

In the last two days I've been spilled on twice by strangers.
And of course neither time was anywhere near my closet.
Love one another.

My first year here during VIESHA
A very confused, very inebriated gentleman
Broke into my dorm at 4am.
Love one another.

Unfortunate things happen in everyday life.
Thank God.

Lucky I got to meet two people this week who are just as human as anyone else.
Lucky for the awkward phone conversation between myself and a wrong number.
Lucky I had to repeat statistics, only to find out that sociology isn't where my passion lies.
Lucky in High School I didn't make varsity show choir right away, so I met one of my best friends.
Lucky a scared, confused young man broke into my room and reminded me that life in unpredictable.
Lucky our ministry found itself in financial trouble, to remind us what it's really all about.
Lucky I consistently get lost...
And am reminded that I need other people.

Lucky the frustration.
Lucky the fears.
Lucky the heartache,
Lucky the tears.
Lucky the sleepless nights.
Lucky our personal limits.
Lucky the conflicts.
Lucky the tough classes.

And:
Lucky our Savior died on that cross.
Lucky the purpose and message wasn't lost.
Lucky the Martyrs, the rebels, and critics,
Lucky the revolutionaries who refused to quit.

Lucky that God brought us here together.
And so lucky we're commanded to Love One Another.

Emily Martin
September 12, 2012

a Presidential address

Words of promise and too-optimistic hope
travel on a sheet of well-rehearsed  silk
Covering the collection of people who have gathered
Hoping to take away just one message, thought, or sentence,
wanting to put it in their pockets to store in their arsenal of good-intentions
and "one-day" wishes.
A vague statement to withdraw from an account
of well-meaning one-liners.

Cat nip for the quote saps.

But I don't see a politician speaking.

It's my High School principal,

speaking in front of a crowded stadium filled with barely-adults

clad in red tents and cardboard hats.

She's telling us that today is great,

but it's tomorrow that matters.

I look around.

Waiting for others to catch on to the 

anthropomorphic properties of our elected official.

But they're recalling their own histories.

I'm writing mine. 

Emily Martin

Aug 28, 2012

Ballerina Dreams

I take daily comfort in knowing that somewhere,

someone who once called themselves a writer,

still finds pleasure in carefully constructing grocery lists.

She used to be a dancer

but now the only choreography she knows

is the syncopated rhythm of her children’s schedules

The grace it takes to make stir-fry

while re-learning algebra.

and enough rehearsal etiquette to realize that

tomorrow she’ll have to start all over again.

Plagued by unfulfilled strings of ambition

she wonders if the life she has

is her punishment for not working harder,

being more dedicated,

or drawing the line when

“what it takes” was too much for the reward.

She drops her child off at dance class

wondering why no one ever warned her. 

Emily Martin

Sept 11, 2012

I'm over "it"

I'm over mushy dreams
Goals of putting pictures into frames.
I'm over the term "soul mate"
Like it's a position I'm hiring for.
I'm over "girl friend"
Like it's a position I'm forever interviewing for.
I'm over looking at guys like they're perspective futures.
Over that dreading/exciting/anticipating/expecting feeling
When I log onto my computer.

I don't want someone who always thinks I'm right.
I do want someone who wants to wish me goodnight.
I don't need someone to take care of me.
I do need someone to be there for me.

Whether this person has the title of boyfriend
Or whether this person has the title of best friend.
History and personal experience has shown
As people, we're not meant to go it alone.

A Present-Day Moses?

Stricken by politicians

Who can't see what's behind them.

Think back to every:

Political stupor perceived as a rock star tour,

Each political caller disrupting dinner hour, and

Each candidate promising a better tomorrow.

See; every politician has two faces;

The face that people see and the face that can’t face faces.

Pharaoh was a politician.

And Pharaoh was scared.

In his gut was fear, so out of his mouth came “slavery.”

His weakness of insecurity fed the power of genocide.

They say that out of a person’s mouth flows the condition of their heart.

Pharaoh felt helpless so he had the helpless killed.

Fast-forward to Moses, sailing down the river in his own infant-sized Ark in the form of a basket.

His small boat docks in the home of Pharaoh.

Here it becomes obvious that history repeats itself because following Joseph, a Hebrew is in Pharaoh’s house again!

And Moses’ rise to power is just more evidence that God’s people cannot be kept down, because we have a Father who doesn’t allow it.

In this family we breed leaders.

I’m talking about standing-in-front-of-a-classroom-leading-children-into-a-better-tomorrow leaders.

And restoring-and-preserving-the-land-that-God-left-in-our-hands leaders.

Being-a-shoulder-when-someone-needs-us leaders

And offering-a-prayer-for-those-who-don’t-pray-for-themselves leaders.

From the Oval Office to a west coast hospice.

From the preacher feature on CNN to the child serving in a soup kitchen.

This family breeds leaders.

So I ask you;

Could you be somebody’s Moses?

Do you have what it takes to take the hand of a brother? A sister, father, mother, son, or daughter?

Keep in mind that had fear prevailed we would not know the name Moses today.

Had a number of women not acted out of compassion and courage the extermination of an entire people would have been forgotten by history.

Christ calls us to do one thing above all else; to love one another as God first loved us.

This is a story about fear  of people who are different.

About people who look at others and see something that isn’t.

Fear of the encroachment of the so-called-outsider.

A lesson that shouldn’t be that difficult to decipher.

Because it’s happening. Now.

Through chilling with those whom social diseases were festering

Jesus teaches us to be that much more accepting.

But our churches tend to be cultural cocoons where we can escape the changes out neighborhoods, cities, and nations are experiencing.

So who will be Moses for the people out there?

Who will speak up when others simply don’t care?

This is a call to the future leaders of this tradition.

Future doctors, and teachers, and pediatricians,

Mothers, and fathers, and computer technicians,

Hasty environmentalists, and honest politicians.

This is a challenge to live a life worthy of the call you have received.

Because as a child of God, you were born to lead.

Emily Martin

Sept 28, 2011

Revised: Nov 29, 2011

This I Know

I have a confession
I still have questions
About the One who died for me.
About Creation vs. Evolution
And the Holy Trinity.
I know He's in the thunderstorms
But did He create the dinosaurs?
And was extinction some sort of punishment?

If a child asked me "What is God?"
Frankly, I wouldn't know what to say.
Whether it's 2012 or 6030
I don't know what to expect on that last day.
When three equals one, and one equals three
How can I possibly make that make sense?
But to confine God to the limits of our logic
Corrupts the idea of Faith.

I want to know why something we choose to believe in has caused so many wars.
Why this Book about Love and Compassion
Is the number one book stolen in bookstores.
After all, Christ calls us to do one thing above all else
To love one another, as God first loved us.
But we've created stipulations in small print for the Love Jesus says to share.
Like He's holding a VIP list to that amazing party up there.
"Love thy neighbor" wasn't written with excpetions
And I have a hard time believing in a God who hands out rejections.

But this isn't a me-thing,
This isn't a you-thing,
This isn't a we-thing,
And this isn't a them-thing.
This is an everyone-under-the-sun-coming-together-to-be-an-Us-thing.

If you look inside you're sure to find
That all-too simple,
All-too perfect nursery rhyme.
Because "Jesus Loves [Us], This I Know. For the Bible Tells Me Se."

-Emily Martin
(with the help of Haylee Martin)
July 8, 2011.

Respect is the Movement

Bitch, Whore, Dyke, Twat
hushed by what God gave us
Called by what we're not.
Ugly derogatory terms used to misrepresent beautiful parts
And we wear these labels because society hands them out
Because after all, negative attention is still... attention.
$7 billion is what we spent last year trying to reach the unrealistic expectations set before us.
Always behind closed doors
Painting attempts at perfection accorss our faces.
Bleaching, frying, and straightening our hair till it falls in all the right places.
An hour is what the average girl spends daily just to look presentable.
As if to say that without all the effort, products, and time the face God gave her isn't worth seeing.
Who's idea was it in the first place that with like-face paint,
Clowns were more beautiful than women?

And you see,
All this is done for that three second first impression
Which then work just as hard to maintain.
And guys, while you sit by watching
I have some news.
Contrary to popular belief,
this is no longer for you.
It used to be miniscule,
but now the only ridicule we fear
Is from our fellow females.

We've learned to compare, to laugh, and to judge.
To do everything we can to lift ourselves up.
No it's out of our mouths that you hear
Bitch, Whore, and Dyke.
It's through secrets and rumors that we ignite the fight.
It's this obsession with prosthetic perfection
That has turned Venus into a battle field.
See beyond the casualties of self-confidence and behind the front lines in something very real.
But when first impressions only last three seconds
It become very difficult to find
The sexiest piece of human anatomy,
... I'm talking about the mind.
See with blackened lashes and bronzed skin
It doesn't matter what you put on your mouth
What matters most is what comes out.

I think it's obvious that the issue is trust
So let's make the solution faith.
Faith in ourselves that we can treat each other with the respect we deserve
Faith that out of all of this, you'll end up stronger in the end.
Faith that with a different vision, you'll be a better friend.
I challenge you to sign the unpublished pact
That one-by-one we'll change our act.
The work of the women before us can't have been in vain
So we can't be vain
We need to watch what we say.
We need to take responsibility of the attitude society has for future girls.
So while there's definitely importance in "Going Green," equal marriage rights, and the anti-war scene.
This world needs more importance
Let's make RESPECT the movement.

A Toast for Valentines Day

This is for those of us who miss holding hands

For the guy who wants to hug her just because he can

For the people who look into each other's eyes hoping to find more than merely a reflection.

For all the girls who have completely over-analyzed every single one of his actions.

For those of you in search of the accompanying beat to the rhythm of your own heart.

For that diary entry that wonders when your life will start.

This is for the single people

And for the "I-love-them-more-than-life" people

For the "just-for-fun-on-the-weekends" people

For the "might-as-well-be-married" people.

But more importantly;

This is for the strong people

For the "I-can-stand-on-my-own" people

For the "I-complete-myself" people

For the confident, but shy

For those who aren't too timid to say "I."

For those of us who have a relationship with Life.

This is to let you know that no matter what they told you

Out there, somewhere, there is somebody who loves you.

Out of 6 billion people, at least one is thinking of you.

To prove my point, I just said, that this poem was written for you.

This is for the people who are going home alone

For those people who tend to fall asleep while on the phone.

For the red-hot-lovers

for the body-pillow-huggers.

For the "Not-tonight-I-have-a-headache" pretenders.

This is for your roommate,

This is for the waitress,

For the guywho sits next to you

This is for the President.

This is for your lover,

This is for your crew

But most importantly my friends,

Let's toast to you.

-Emily Martin

February 11, 2011

Rehab's Not an Option

I recently had a friend come to me and ask me to write a poem for him. See, he had all the feelings that he wanted to share with his girlfriend, he just wasn't linguistically creative.

So here is Rehab's Not an Option, written by me for Dave for Teigan.

When I look into your eyes

I can't help but see the lies that we've shared.

The pain that's been contagious through these years,

but I swear;

Those same eyes drive me wild

I can't look away

I'm an addict for your love

In the worst possible way.

And when we're apart

Withdrawal is a Hell for me

Because me without you

Isn't how it's supposed to be.

And all those screaming matches

Baby, that's just me

Realizing I don't deserve you

Forgive me, I'll make you see

All I need is one more chance,

just one more song, one more dance.

When it comes to addictions,

I've had my run

Out of all the narcotics,

My soul only craves one.

See, weed can take me places,

But I travel alone.

Alcohol makes me forget the sound

of your voice on the phone.

The only evidence of crack,

is the one you left on my heart

You're a habit I need to indulge in

Just tell me where to start.

Babe, open those hazel eyes

And see that I'm right here

I will always love you

I will always be there.

-Emily Martin

January 7, 2011

His Smile...

His smile...

Oh my God his smile

It reminds me that there's humor in the world.

And his laugh is the soundtrack

Of beautifully crazy moments

That we can see replay when we go to sleep at night.

My fingers find serenity in the spaces between his

Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle where the picture is we

In a crowded room of people

All it takes is one glance and we know the answer was always us.

And it's the way he makes me laugh

And most of the time, what he says is actually funny.

But don't tell him I said that

Even though he may secretly know...

It's a secret we both like to share.

The way he can appreciate the humor in every day life

And the fact that he's not afraid to laugh at himself.

It's the doors he holds open,

His habit of walking on the traffic side of the sidewalk,

And the fact that his jacket is always too big, but always just warm enough.

There are days we don't get along

Sometimes his conviction,

Which I nickname stubbornness,

Drives me insane.

And I don't know what's going to happen

the next time he critiques my driving....

But God bless him,

He puts up with those days when I play space cadet.

And, besides my sister,

I don't know anyone more patient than he is when I need driving directions.

But at the end of the day

My favorite place to be

is between is folded arms and his chest.

And I look into his eyes

And I realize that this is what it feels like.

When I close my eyes I can see him...

God, I can't wait to meet him.

You Don't Remember Me

Yeah, we went to high school together

You were in my math class,

and my spanish class,

we were in band together,

choir? dance?

...we were doubles partners in Tennis.

But you still don't remember me.

The disgusting cafeteria food,

Mr. Thompson's long lectures on international trade policies

The smell of the hallway by the boy's locker room...

Things you remember about high school

But you don't remember me.

You passed me in the hall

Every single day

I was the one you had to step around

When I was in your way.

One time, freshman year, I let you copy my homework in Spanish

Because, I knew what it was like to forget to do the assignment.

But you still don't remember me.

But I remember you

And I will for the rest of my life

I remember the snickers you and your friends gave me

Some days when I passed by.

I remember the taunting

When I had to use a Hello Kitty backpack.

Because the one I saved my money up for

Got ruined in a car wreck.

Your words and your laughter

Would rotate through my gut

Like laundry in the dryer

On a cycle that wouldn't stop.

It was late March, Sophomore year

When I found refuge in a bathroom stall

The bile that was created

From the way that I was treated

Finally, found, it's way out.

A physical release, of the mental hold you had on me.

My sacrifice to the high school life

You turned into a Hell.

But you don't remember me.

On that battle ground of the high school grounds

You brought weapons;

Perfect highlights, flawless skin,

A guy on your arm who belonged in Abercrombie and Fitch.

Manicured hands, a glowing tan

...did I mention he was a college man?

But I wasn't your only victim

There were days when I got lucky

Those days when you completely ignored my existence

Those were the days I looked forward to.

But when I caught the eye, of your daily catch

We'd share a glance as silent and quick as the time it took you to forget about us.

But I want to thank you.

Because of what you put me through

I developed great strength.

You kicked me when I was already down,

So I'm who I am today.

No longer hiding in that bathroom stall

I shout from rooftops, I speak to you all.

From the depths of my lungs I have harnessed a weapon so powerful

Sometimes it scares me.

I've made fear into phrases

And anger into rhymes.

Conviction in my voice

With passion in my lines.

But you see, our main difference,

When you start comparing,

Is that I will never use my weapon for hurting.

In your hand is the hand of your fiance

In my hand's a mic.

You have your picture perfect high school memories

Me, I have the rest of my life.

You see, I'm going places

In no time, I'll make you see.

So for future reference,

You might want to remember me.

The Optimistic Insomniac.

Some people like to lay in bed and think,

Well I prefer to sleep.

Because laying there pondering the wonders of my world that late, to me, just seems too deep.

And on those nights when I can't fall asleep

Questions arise in my head that I find strange and unfamiliar. Like:

If you're driving down the highway and you cut someone off, and he doesn't have a thumb, is he still giving you the middle finger?

But see, these questions don't come because of the influence of any drug or substance,

But because I never bothered to build up walls to contain my imagination.

See, my imagination is my escape when I turn on the TV to a News that should be rated R.

R for redundant, reprobated, risky and repugnant.

For those radical realists who reach for resistance from recreant ringleaders who rarely get revealed for what they really represent.

In this world I've seen people get attacked.

Not because of what they believe in

But because of what others don't.

I'm watching this world fall apart

Not because of what people are doing

But because of what people won't.

But we're told:

"Stay in school," "Do your best,"

"Study hard," "Ace the test,"

"The real world is hard."

Well no f***ing kidding

Because nothing I learned in this classroom,

Will I be repeating.

You see, as a person,

I'm more than the sum of my broken hearts.

And I'm not going to compromise to hypothesize the changes that might take place,

Because, I don't know about you, but I'm tired of running in this fixed human race.

I have a better Idea,

How 'bout a fun run?

Where the prize is success

And everyone gets one.

Or how about a game of Scrabble for those with smarts

Or maybe pictionary for those with a knack for the arts?

In my utopia,

Everyone wins.

Hearts are invincible

And there is no sin.

The dreams are many

And the nightmares are few

Love is abound

Hate is subdued.

I build these ideas up

Only to be dissapointed.

You can imagine the insomnia

that seems to follow

As my head continues to spin.

While I try to come up with a plan

To create a world without

heartache, nightmares, or sin.

So while you stay up pondering over

Unpaid bills, that cute guy at work, or why you haven't heard the baby make a peep...

I believe now, you'll understand me when I say;

"I would rather sleep."

You Can't Always Get What You Want...

Have you ever screamed secrets at the moon?

You know those ones that even God pretends not to hear

Those secrets that sound like timeless poems envolcalized not because of any illiteration or format but simply because they are so damn honest? ..Neither have I.

But sometimes, sometimes, I drink my coffee as if its saving lives. You know those black-as-Malcom-Xs-Pupils pot-of-pure-potential nights? I let it crash down my throat like an oil spill riding the tide. And for a spilt fleeting Hudinni second I feel alive.

Because my friends, this world can feel so big and I can feel so small forget saving this earthly monster, I don't feel like getting out of bed at all. But some can't get out of bed at all. Some lay lifeless before they can crawl. I have dreams of atheists falling to bloody knees Please, I'll pray to you all

But you can't always get what you want....

Why do I know this world is so big? Because the term World Peace sounds childish. Because the word love, amore, amor'e is lost in sex and city star dust. I love, I love you, I love you. Why is that so hard to say? It's so much easier to say I hate you, I hate life, I hate me, I hate that I hate. I hate that it takes a six pack or mic to really get behind what I say. And thats the reason the only time I say what I mean is when I'm drunk or on stage. Sometimes a combination of the two. ...And that can get really realistic.

But you can't always get what you want....

You see we're humans. And I'm not talking about that propaganda slipped into our blood at birth that says that we naturally urge for sex and flesh and that its our instinct to hurt. Sorry, but that seems like a lid screwed on too tightly. 6 Billion humans agreeing what Human Nature is doesn't begin to explain what it could be. When I say human I mean creator. When I say creator I mean you. And this isn't a pep talk, I'm simply giving back what they took from you in school.

But you can't always get what you want....

Isn't it weird that those really big thoughts don't hit you when you're doing small tasks? Like day dreaming about a child being slaughtered in Sudan doesn't hit you while you're cutting the grass. But if it does it only stays for the length of a commercial. And then it's back to the main program starring us where we seek friends like Ross and Rachel.

But these things are happening. Trust me. This is it, this is reality. But so is beauty blooming inhale, exhale, balancing.

But you can't always get...

Even if you expect on getting it. I read up on someone who was tired of waiting, jumped right into creation and called it Genesis.

America the Beautiful Parody

O beautiful for spacious skies

Polluted beyond repair.

For purple mountain majesties

There are Wal*Marts everywhere.

America, America

We spread our trash on thee

And crown they good with brotherhood

Wherever the goods are free.

O beautiful for pilgrim feet

Who marched indians to their death

A thoroughfare of freedom beat.

Well, what good beats are left.

America, America,

Wall Street mend all of thine scars.

Confirm thy soul in self-control

From interns and pop stars

O beautiful for patriot dream
Of an umbrella drink on a beach somewhere
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Under years of wear and tear.
America, America
We'll "Go Green" to preserve thee.
With oil drills and oil spills
From sea to shining sea.

The Intro to My Act.

People ask if slamming is rap

I answer two-thirds

See the backbone to my rhymes

Is the meaning behind the words.

The words touch your heart

Feel the rhythm in your feet.

A linguistic gun in one hand

I don't need a beat.

I'll run circles around you.

But I'm no jock.

In the band for six years

I made the schoolhouse rock.

From the classroom to the stage

From my paper to your ears.

Love, Hate, Happiness,

Relationships, and Fears.

I'm that poetic aesthetic

I'll paint you a scene

Make the world seem less pathetic

Sad, as it may seem.

Everything you know about poetry, forget.

This is a different type of reading.

This is something you'll get.

I'm not here to change you,

Or blow your mind.

I want you to question yourself

And the answers you find.

I stand before you

With what time I got

To share with you some things

And to fill a time slot.

Poetry 101

It started off just a habit,

Something to pass the time.

A pen and some paper,

And some words that rhymed.

First family and friends

Lent a supportive ear.

Then over 300 people

Gathered to hear.

Slam is the poetry

I choose to speak

Real life is the material

I use to teach.

Drugs, Depression,

Alcohol, and Sex

With a little religion

Who knows what I'll use next.

I don't need a degree

To teach this passion.

All I need is a mic

And a touch of conviction.

So throw out your pencils,

Take a seat, and listen.

Welcome to Poetry 101.

Class is in session.

Emily Martin

September 6, 2010

Sex Sells

Kids are growing up faster than ever.

Every generation's just another younger mother.

It's on the TV, in the music, in the way we dress.

Is it really what we want? It's time to confess.

Because the only thing that sells anymore is sex.

When the shock factor's gone

What will they use next?

When kids start using words that make you blush,

Or when the prom queen is pregnant, and childhood is rushed,

Maybe when it's your kid who didn't use protection,

"But mom, it's ok, they made it on television."

What will it take

To make you see

That the reality that sells

Is on reality TV?

No one's entertained by the Honor Roll,

Working 9-5, or moral birth control.

It's when people mess up, or someone gets screwed,

But we're the entertainers, we're the ones who choose.

They can't Top the Charts, or Rock the Box Office

If the material they're selling doesn't entertain us.

Want the world to slow down? Then stop giving checks

To billion dollar companies who keep selling us sex.

July 23, 2010

I'm a Believer <>< (Extended Edition)

I'm searching for a word
Looking through the songs
Maybe a rhyme
Just to right the wrongs

A message in the sky
Maybe a sign from above
Noah had it right
Where's my branch and my dove?

Ask the non-believers
They're havin' a fit.
They look at my people
One word: hypocrite.

Saturday night;
"Hey they're playing my song!"
All seven deadly sins
Playing all night long.

Sunday morning
and it's a different story
Wake up just in time
To sing to His Glory.

Sit in the pews
Bow your head
Ask for forgiveness
...And do it all again.

Monday comes
You're back at work
Talk about the new girl
And how your boss is a jerk.

Chrome fish on your car
A Bible on your shelf
Grace before dinner
Yet you ask yourself:

Who am I really?
Why am I here?
If you'd crack open that Bible,
You'd find it's clear.

You're here to Live for Him
Because He died you you,
You're here to show people
Just what His love can do.

"Let your light so shine..."
See your way through the dark
Know that you're His
He lives in your heart.

To the non-believers;
I pray for you
Because I know that
My God loves you too.
(-June 14, 2010)

To all of you
It starts today.
I'm looking at the future,
And for this I pray:


That you stand for what's right,
Not afraid to take the lead.
Your life may be the only Bible
That some people read.


That no matter what happens
You remember Him.
Lord in your name I pray,
and play,
Amen.
(-July 12, 2010)