CAA: Christian Anime Alliance

I am currently attempting to write poetry from a subjected position...this is hard and leaves my langauge all stilted and whatnot. So, please give me a moment...yes, there it is...Now, to writ:


I write my thoughts from beneath the sky in the valley, squatted in abject praise, a song of dispair and worship intersplayed across my ruined lips. I am not a prince of somber night, with my mourning clothes dancing in the moonsplatter, nor some becalmed king of light with feather-furrows in my hair. I have thrown down all such claims, all titles, and become Hungry, Hooded, A Wayfarer, People-less, Plot-less, Place-less. I kneel in bafflement before a broken crown, my own offerings up to a more eternal throne...caught in the rythem of my blasphemy, I ignore the arc-lights pouring through the curtains of this, my abandoned temple....My place was in the light, then the night, now I squat in the dying of the day, worshipping the Son from my uncomfortable place in the valley of Death.


There is a tittering thing that I have broken through, a glass window-vault which had the pretense of being the last place of interest....There is a feeling, which bound in mortal words is still indescribable, a holy and sacred thing, untouchable, in which induces in me what I have so named a Hermit's Summit, a high place in the low soul, where the holiness of God and the true humility of Man commingle in the effluence of ether...

There is a Turning approaching me, an Event, a Time in which the unknowable meditations of God's Own Heart will be given like a silver gift to me, a beggar resting in his own fluids. I would rather cry with open despair to God then speak to him of goodness, for I feel my excuse for servitude breaking my coward's back. I carry my own weight no-where, for GOD has taken me up...yet still I demand at differing times to be set down, to get back up, to fall...and to get back up again.

How can I worship faithfully? How can I come to him knowingly? How can I sing to him in a pure tongue? All I have to offer is battered stones and broken oaths; all I have is naught to him.

God...My Father...Yeshua....JHVH...


I am a Hermit, a Wayfarer, A Mendicant and a Vagabond. Yet am I holy? I am not. Am I righteous? I Am NOT! I am beset by demons, intra-personal and extra personal, I am broken and bent and routed and discarded; when will God feel I have finally failed him? For if he does not know how often I fail, then it is wise for him to love me, yet should he know, how can he continue?


What will it take to push you away? What will it take to free my heart from your tangled Holy promises and take back the creeping black? I can't help but be rescued, Lord!


Am I Holy?

Am I Righteous?

Am I GOOD?

These are the questions, not to God, but OF God.


He Is Holy.


He Is Righteous.


HE.

IS.

GOOD.


Yeshua Machiah, Hallelujah Amen.


And.....




Amen.


A Second Piece:


Oh God, why do you bother?

It's the devil I love!

Hell I lust after!


God, I give my Harlot's heart away at a moment's notice;

when do I not belong to some fools fallacy?

I go lusting after fals gods

like the kids of Israel

yet always I come back

broken backed to you



Lord, when does your love cease?

where does it end?


Baffled, I turned to the light and saw you smile; or did I?




I dreamt of you, I screamed to you, and was not heard...yet was I?

Father....Father...Friend.


Amen.

“Rapture Endure Humble Beat-Beatitudesâ€

Ahem... umm actually Zarn... I have a confession to make... all the mistakes in the world, they're err... mine... yes... they all belong to me. And you CAN'T HAVE THEM!!! : Smacks Zarn upside the head : Sheesh, stop being so rough on yourself and your writing, God gave you that talent in words and be darned if I'm going to see you put it down! That was a rather deep provacative piece and perhaps it takes someone with a college education in literature to understand it, but that's no excuse for them or yourself to put down this work. Your being an unfair critic, perhaps though the reason why your work get's critiqued so little is that your not writing for your audience. Herein, that would include science geeks, and computer nerds... but rather this should be critiqued by those who understand both the spiritual and the myths of the world, one enamored in words and their many uses. Otherwise just take the silence as a symbol of our embarrassement, for we fail to understand, and thus we fail to say anything for fear of public failure in writing a proper comment... or maybe we just fail... at life and everything. 42! Anywho, great work, I give it the Pascal stamp of approval.

Pascal

Well then, quit it, I could use even the most fumble-tongued of critics right now.

Wow....
I agree with Pascal, God has gifted you with an amazing talent with words.
Truly...wow...

I can try to find a critic for you, but it would be next to impossible to uncover.

Awesome writing Zarn. ^^

Wow....
I agree with Pascal, God has gifted you with an amazing talent with words.
Truly...wow...

I can try to find a critic for you, but it would be next to impossible to uncover.

Awesome writing Zarn. ^^

T'is true. You have an amazing gift with words. The only criticism I can muster would be that there are a few spelling mistakes. Sheesh, that's all.

In your 'editor's note' you called it awful, yet a mirror of your soul, your own admission of madness' or something of the like. Awful perhaps in the feelings of despair, the way the thoughts churn and beg questions with no answers. But that is what hits the heart; I understand those times when I am so low I cannot see his smile; I wonder if he even smiles at me. His love seems an unbelieveable thing; my falleness breaks my heart. Your truthful words of how you feel convery the emotion, and I understand. Perhaps this is what makes your poetry 'epic': the bare truth, spoken, though poetically and metaphorically, so sometimes the exact meanings of each portion are not exactly clear; spoken plainly in a way that speaks to the emotions. Your poem echoes with the own cries of my heart, so often hidden through the days.

I hope you don't mind me doubleposting, but I feel I have a good reason to. This is a new thought, and if I just add it to my last post via editing it, unfortunately most people won't see it, or realise that I've edited my former post.

Anyway, while reading my bible, this verse reminded me of your poems: Romans 2:4 .
In context, it's talking about how people can show contempt for God's kindness by passing judgement on others while doing the same wrong things themselves. But it was this part that reminded me of your poems: ..."God's kidness leads you toward repentance".
Just speaking for myself, when I see how good God is, and how undeserving I am of his kindness, it makes me feel very low and regret my sinful actions. It makes me feel sorry, and ask for his forgiveness.

Just thought that might be interesting to share, since I thought of your poem whilst reading that part of Romans today.

I write my thoughts from beneath the sky in the valley, squatted in abject praise good phrase, a song of dispair and worship intersplayed across my ruined lips I like this sentenceas a whole. I am not a prince of somber night, with my mourning clothes dancing in the moonsplatter, nor some becalmed king of light with feather-furrows in my hair. I have thrown down all such claims, all titles, and become Hungry, Hooded, A Wayfarer, People-less, Plot-less, Place-less. I kneel in bafflement before a broken crown, my own offerings up to a more eternal throne...caught in the rythem of my blasphemy, I ignore the arc-lights pouring through the curtains of this, my abandoned temple....My place was in the light, then the night, now I squat in the dying of the day, worshipping the Son from my uncomfortable place in the valley of Death.

There is a tittering thing that I have broken through, a glass window-vault which had the pretense of being the last place of interest....There is a feeling, which bound in mortal words is still indescribable, a holy and sacred thing, untouchable, in which induces in me what I have so named a Hermit's Summit, a high place in the low soul, where the holiness of God and the true humility of Man commingle in the effluence of ether... Good phrase

There is a Turning approaching me, an Event, a Time in which the unknowable meditations of God's Own Heart will be given like a silver gift to me, a beggar resting in his own fluids. I would rather cry with open despair to God then speak to him of goodness, for I feel my excuse for servitude breaking my coward's back. I carry my own weight no-where, for GOD has taken me up...yet still I demand at differing times to be set down, to get back up, to fall...and to get back up again. Interesting sequence. I like it.

How can I worship faithfully? How can I come to him knowingly? How can I sing to him in a pure tongue? All I have to offer is battered stones and broken oaths; all I have is naught to him.

God...My Father...Yeshua....JHVH...


I am a Hermit, a Wayfarer, A Mendicant and a Vagabond. Yet am I holy? I am not. Am I righteous? I Am NOT! I am beset by demons, intra-personal and extra personal, I am broken and bent and routed and discarded; when will God feel I have finally failed him? For if he does not know how often I fail, then it is wise for him to love me, yet should he know, how can he continue?This last sentence does not make sense to me.


What will it take to push you away? What will it take to free my heart from your tangled Holy promises and take back the creeping black? I can't help but be rescued, Lord!


Am I Holy?

Am I Righteous?

Am I GOOD?

These are the questions, not to God, but OF God.


He Is Holy.


He Is Righteous.


HE.

IS.

GOOD.


Yeshua Machiah Machiah?, Hallelujah Amen.


And.....




Amen.Good ending.













A Second Piece:


Oh God, why do you bother?

It's the devil I love!

Hell I lust after!


God, I give my Harlot's heart away at a moment's notice;

when do I not belong to some fools fallacy?

I go lusting after fals gods

like the kids of Israel

yet always I come back

broken backed to you



Lord, when does your love cease?

where does it end?


Baffled, I turned to the light and saw you smile; or did I?




I dreamt of you, I screamed to you, and was not heard...yet was I?

Father....Father...Friend.


Amen. This one somewhat baffled me.


[b]“Rapture Endure Humble Beat-Beatitudesâ€