Thursday, September 27, 2007

The Warrior

Oh bitter moments are what feel truest,
living in the cold truth of despair;
or is it pain that brings us the purest,
existing our limits knowingly declare.

We fight our battles and wage our wars,
trudge on through mud and muck,
struggle for adventure on far off shores,
yet, triumph for a beauty not by any luck.

The scars and bruises prove us as men,
pushed to the brink showing our grit.
Now we have earned a time to tend
to memories we will ne'er forget.

Our beauties call us with lust and lure,
beckon to follow them to bed.
The spoils we have taken for sure,
happy that scars have not left us dead.

Time earned to sit and think,
gray haze in a peaceful night.
Thoughts blood helps sink
vivid memories as clear as sight.

So, we grow dour and old
there is no more battle for our bones.
Ere, we die and travel to heaven
there are angels with swords, God on his throne.

He smiles as you enter and calls down
"Welcome warrior, you battled well.
You stared at danger, earned your crown,
thus I say faithful, here you may dwell."

-A

Friday, August 24, 2007

the devil's muse

Thoughts run dry as all sensation leaves,
a voidless mass floating through the days
leaving nothing but a bloody haze.
The vision fades as man feels
loss. What cruel world banishment brought
with all of its beautiful decorations, still
it chills as a winter without its fill.
Do you not know? You caused this draught.
Be gone! Man has had enough, leave him to writhe
on his own. Cease your endless torment.
Away, for he will always resent
your presence, daunting the very fibers inside him.
Return to the Mt. Parnassus where you belong,
to the muses that await unfulfilled with your absence.
Linger no longer to torture mortal mens senses.
You have done enough harm with the charm of your song;
curves blended with movement to birth the harmony,
intonation and pitch resonate from the pools of your eyes,
and rythm made to drive living men's minds to die.
Helen herself wrote then taught you the words of this villany.
Leave man for he is better without, there are women to have
and muses he could do without! You did not tread softly
for his dreams are crushed firmly and world left poorly
with the havok upon it you reaked. Now this command man has:
and I say go foul beast for man will be set free.
-A

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Peacefull night

Walking alone on midnight dreary
I wandered into peace.
A quiet solitude that clearly
could help me to release,
the silent qualms which rose in fury
sat silent made to cease.
What gracious rest in lack of hurry
no quickness to my pace.
Just to wander here for merely
this is divine grace.
-A

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Join the band wagon

So, I just saw the picture of Michael on her brother's blog for the second time and I came to a realization. If my brother ever posted a picture of such moment of me on a highly read blog, I would kill him. Also, my brother is bigger than Michael's brother. I mean one of those good fimilial poundings would be completely in order. I just hope that if Michael does it, she videotapes it. Maybe she could hire Graeme to do it (or at least to edit and put incubus music to the video). Apparently he has been doing push ups and though his past boxing ventures were far from glorious, I still think he would beat his older brother. Anyways, if anyone agrees with me, we could start a petition....

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Painting

Painting, however boring, tedious, and all together useless it may be, is a great activity. It is like taking a bath, sm0king a cigar by yourself, or any other activity that leaves you with only your own thoughts. All you do is sit and think and not about the painting (at least that is the hope). Today, while painting, I was able to remenisce on how hard it is to turn the other cheek or return harsh words with kindness. It is all to easy to snap back at someone, even ones you care for. The reality of the matter is that it usually isn't even you that the person is really "snapping" at in the first place. Something my mom always use to say really struck true to me. "What goes in is what comes out". Now not to say that meaness goes in, but if as christians we aren't carefull then some might sneak in on its own. Just a reminder to me the constant need to stay grounded in the word and prayer. Well, that's all folks.
-A

Saturday, July 7, 2007

A pat on the back

This is not of much consequence but one should always give props where they are due. This one goes on to Bom. I just realized today that he posts as often if not more so than anyone I know. Being that I usually enjoy his blog also, I can tell that he puts at least some time into it. If all that is not enough for a pat and a "well done", he does this all without his own computer. But this begs a question, "Whose computer does he use?" It is a mystery.....on that note, I won't lose any sleep over it but all that just to say props Tanks!

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Crossroads

I come to a crossroads in my life and need to decide which path I will take. God willing I have the next eight months of my life planned out to some extent, no matter what I decided to do. Maybe it is my time at the Big Haus and having listened to so much of Evan's droning; but I can't help but feel no matter what I choose, it really doesn't matter. After many hours of prayer and still seemingly all of my so called "doors" open, I am confused as to which one I should choose. At one point I think I should stay in Moscow when I come back and just get a job there to work the rest of the summer. On the other hand, I could stick it out down here for the rest of the summer. Then there is the whole decision of whether I will actually go back to school or not in the fall....
It all seems a bit to much to decide. So for any of you who read this, please keep me in your prayers. Thanks.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Aggravation

How can it be,
woe, that I still miss thee.
Being stuck in my head,
you reside instead
of in my arms where you really should be.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Woman

God's gift to men, maybe his greatest curse;
with sensuous curves, her presence sadly terse.
Long flowing locks, beautiful hanging curls,
full, lush red lips and neck adorned by pearls.
Pearls that rest gently, on smooth flowing skin,
everytime I see her, I behold the angel thats within.
The angel that is hidden by a strange and clever guise,
her gorgeous body in which she hides is the great disguise.
An angel God has sent to bless and haunt my being,
What type of cruelty is this blessed spirit im fleeing.
For it is bliss to be near her yet torture all the same,
One man can only handle so much without going insane.
- A

Saturday, April 28, 2007



Walking up the stony road with whispers here and there,
I heard a laugh, a gasp, a cry but none did I despair,
I walked a long the star lit street, with cafe to my side.
I did not stop for a bite to eat, for the night seemed to alive.
To alive to waste such time even to pause for moments few,
Tonight was for walking, not so much talking to anyone not even you.
Not to be rude, a brute, or blunt even if all those may seem true,
thought I that some situations and occasions deserve what they are due.
So leave me to walk in my quiet contemplation, continue on your way.
Sun will come and night will pass, and at last all can come as it may.
-knight-errant A

Friday, April 27, 2007

The Dream

I dreamt last night, of things unseen, and the future that still could come,
if I act accordingly, in being so loyaly, true to the mojo law,
Or was it a fancy, a whim, a dream that is what I had saw
I woke to morning, and looked up deploring, the sun which anguished me some.

See it had ruined my dream, by shortening the thing, of which I did so desire,
to return to my bed, and in so forget, about the to do's that had encumbered,
and at the thought of returning, to my bed and confirming, all that I feared,
See if I returned to sleep, in such hopes of repeat, I would fail in that too acquire.

So wake I did, for hopes that it may rid, my memory of such optimistic thought,
for how coud it be, that she might return to me, to mend the broken shards,
or will she return, to spit on and burn, the pieces till left blackened and charred,
So tell me truely, does this dream fool me, into a hope in which I should not be caught!

-Knight-errant A

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

the nectar of life and the saints that serve it

The greatness that is coffee shops.
I've come to realize that my love of Moscow is almost completely and solely based around its coffee shops. I mean what else could it be? The weather is complete crap 5-6 months out of the year, half the time at nights it smells like all the cows were fed something that didn't sit particularly well and they decided to give our nostrils a preview of it. U of I while not completely horrible is also nothing special. I can't complain about my living circumstances, but you can get a sweet place anywhere. I have a good group of friends, but that is balanced out by the existence of worst greek system, most annoying hicks, and all around retarded drunk people. I would say something about the women situation or lack there of but I feel that the suggestion of such would have repricussions that I don't want to deal with; so, I will restrain myself. Also, the choices for entertainment or culinary diversity are at a rather pathetic low. The only things left are the coffee shops. I am of the personal opinion that God's gift to Moscow to keep the few like me sane is Moscow's coffee shops. You know a town has done something right if they have four different types of coffee shops in a two block stretch (all of which are serving the nectar of life as the name would suggest) and not one of them is Starbucks. No matter what type of coffee you want or what type of atmosphere you want to drink it in, Moscow has you covered. So for this, I give chops to Moscow and its havens of happiness.... well done!

Monday, April 23, 2007

Seasons

The solemn nature of a true heart
is not the nature of mine.
For what heart is true
than the happiest heart divine.
No, give me mirth and joy and glee,
for these mine heart shouldst love.
Why let sorrow be thy nature,
when we still rest above
on God's green earth
so lush, jubulant, and live.
Why choose the winters cold,
if spring and summer are not far behind?
Then warmth in my morrow shouldst grow,
Winter and Autumn are fleeting things
Just as Summer and Spring too.
So why not take joy in what we have
and linger not in pity's gloom.
Yes, give me a heart of joy and peace,
for these will keep me happy and true
and when winters come, I will laugh
for I know they will be over soon.
-A

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Covered in Haze

A tribute to the Parnassus club from its fearless leader. Enjoy...

Bathed in smoke that fills the room,
we sit and revel in words and fumes.
Of glories and loves, battles and deeds,
dreams and choices, for us to read.
Men still yet remembered, for words not yet lost,
who are we to consider, such magnificent thoughts.

Here we sit, the best three strong.
We sit long, strong, and proud
to listen, babble, and discuss
the best of ideas and laud.
Women cross our thoughts
from time to time in shrowds,
covered in a thick blue/grey haze,
given off in whispy clouds.

So if you think you merrit,
to become one of the few,
Look for a dusky, dim lit library,
for there do we sit and muse.

-A

Boredom

With school, work, and business in the works, life is busier than ever. As the years progress and the light at the end of colleges tunnel grows from a spec to an gateway, time becomes a precious commodity. With all of this, how do I still find myself bored? I am busier than ever and even with my weeks planned out, it seems I barely have enough time to get everything done. Yet, boredom........boredom!!!!! How, why? What right is it of mine to be bored. This isn't my time, my body, or my life. It all belongs to God and God has been overly kind. So, why am I bored. My pastor this morning this morning preached out of Ecclesiastes. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity" Eccl 1:2; All the rivers run into the sea, Yet the sea is not full; To the place from which the rivers come, There they return again. All things are full of labor; Man cannot express it. The eyee is not satisfied with seeing, Nor the ear filled with hearing. Eccl 1:7-8.
I find a bit of solace in this book. Even Solomon was bored. He had all the world to offer: a large kingdom, wisdom, wives, money, and anything else his heart desired except for contentment. What gain was it to have everything, when everyone leaves with nothing. Growing up I always heard the phrase, "You can't take it with you", in retrospect maybe it should have been, "You can't take it with you and you don't get to stay". But as my pastor stated this morning, it doesn't matter who you are or what you do, you are still going to die and wether you die a king or a beggar that doesn't change your state. So, what is the point? "Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die"? I would say not. Instead, love and serve God for there is no greater thing in life.
Maybe then my attentions are misplaced. Maybe my boredom is a result of misplaced priorities. In this I gain comfort, that the only thing worthwhile in life is seeking after the Great Provider and only in him will I find contentment. My prayer is that God never lets me overlook this truth.