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."