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Name: Benjamin


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Member Since: 11/10/2004

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Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Epistles of Ironpipe.

Dear cure to care,
    Fortune, reputation, your yoke of life. To see the dead end roads ending with strung together hopes, somehow. Seeking the salubrious grapes of existence upon the celestial hills of tomorrow. Worries of the mistress, hopes of golden crowns and silver chariots, or at least cotton beds and loaves of bread. If every collection of breath drawing up desires is left unmet, the fear of every man, where would we be then. What is the dilemma in that? If they were only drawn up by yourself in the first place... No matter the magniloquence of speech there is still a certain sense of the inherent callowness of humanity in every set of bones. It's disheveling. It's a scattered stack of papers in which the divinity of life is written, just the pages left unnumbered. If a day arrives in which fear doesn't drive us and we are no longer puppets hinged on the hidden strings of respect and dignity(their counterparts loss and failure), that is one day in victory. I'm going to go eat peanuts and berries on bread with some bottled grapes while I mull this over.



An end to the odes of Ironpipe.


Sunday, April 06, 2008

Sometimes a deus ex machina is necessary


The same old road is used every morning.
The same old reactions to the same old people.
The same numbers on your paycheck.
The same breakfast, (brunch if applicable), lunch, and dinner.
The same sleeping sheets with the same pillow.
The same toothbrush. The same smile.
No matter how rara avis.
If you fail to see the Divinity in life, everything grows old.
No matter how rara avis.

Sometime a deus ex machina is necessary.
A personal bellwether to set the next stage of habits.
Sometimes self-provoking this and sometimes letting pure kismet fall as rain caught in gravity.

There are times when everything feels alive.
There are also times when everything is gray.
Yahweh, save us, before ennui set's itself in our very bones.

 


Saturday, December 08, 2007

I think I'm obsessed, but not with you.

I was confronted today about having obsessive-compulsive disorder at work. I don't think I have it, but I have all the symptoms. It's funny that they call it a disorder... because it demands order. People are awfully funny, if you were to ask me if I had ocd, even now, I would deny it. I consistently check locks, turn lights off/on, make positively sure my phone is on the key lock setting, make sure my fly is up(you don't want the barn door open), and counter-act movements for balance in life. I may do it an unnecessary amount of times but I don't think it is a disorder.... I kind of like doing those things, confirmation and security in them so I don't get startled on my walk of life. I rode my bike to work in the rain this morning and I had a wonderful time. I wore a hood over my head and loved riding through the puddles. I think I am obsessed with the spell checker on computers. It's so useful. I like when life runs itself... it gets very comfortable and easy... so sometimes you have to mess it up on purpose just to jump-start the thinking process and work through situations(I like that too.); as opposed to mindlessly completing tasks. I use to think that if I contradicted myself I was wrong. I am alright with contradictions. If I am both rowdy and peaceful it doesn't mean I am in the wrong or have split personalities or anything, I just am alive and feel. I can say things of meaning and things that are strictly comments. I microwaved a strawberry because it was too cold on my teeth... and it melted. I put it in the freezer hours ago and I just remembered it now, but I'm in bed, so I'll check it when I remember again. Pray for wisdom and understanding. love.
-benjamin.

ps... I think I'm obsessed with clinchers at the end of everything I type.


Friday, July 13, 2007

Ill born morn

The dim glow of the window to illuminate meticulously placed wax candles, withered perennial prayers, and fragile angel figurines hovering the kitchen floor, placed above the sink, and to the side of the stove. The window is slightly ajar allowing me to revel in the cool summer morn where the birds are singing songs and the bees are still asleep. In an instant as that of a summer shower, my dreary desires fell onto paper... When will the burning of my heart be half the size of even candle light! When will the weight of my prayer be more than rhymed words inscribed on kitchen tiles! In angelic denial I compile all the celestial beings and reduced them to the mere size of ceramic figurines! One day, "Oh God please!" I pray that I may look down and see a beautiful barefoot me enthusiastically proclaiming to live in love and be set free.

Christ must change the character of a person, for the aura of a person may never be changed, only suppressed. But in the suppression of the aura of a person they become bland, boring, and unappealing. Dealing with stereotypes, I believe the idea of church suppresses personality while the opposite should reign true. Christ should and does provide the constant love, grace, and mercy to be brutally honest, highly expressive, and willing to be risky realizing we are in the arms of a supreme and loving God. Later today I realized that peace is not a state of condition but a state of mind. It's something you know in theory but in practice it is unfamiliar territory. I read that as much as we thirst for approval we dread condemnation. To obtain peace of mind and lose a thirst for mans approval is an act of God in itself. William James said the deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be appreciated. To shake that principle, for even a couple moments in time, I was able to see things as to what I believe was clarity.
-benjamin

Clarity being to dance with fire sticks and pace in threes. Turn, shoot, receive/give fire. Then take out your partner for a shot of sunny mud.


Sunday, May 13, 2007

Cheers to chances.

I was a deer in the midst of the desert, frightened on the dust by the pond and the monster it contained. I lost my heart in that moment when all that is good seemed to hinge upon my decision, and I knew that my daily dues were due. In my mind roared a silent scream that only I could hear. It was in the language of the angels and all the choir sang. In my own mind I was on key until the second to last note, when the audience got the best of me. I fell into bed that night and all I could dream was to live. Awake and asleep, my thoughts were all the same. I don't want to die a half-lived man. God, I need you to set me free again, I can rest-assured I'm cradled in your hands. I sobbed myself to sleep that night and the way the tears fell I knew I was once again playing a sweet, sweet melody.

Were you ever confronted by a moment of perfect clarity. Exactly sure of what you wanted to accomplish yet unable to convince yourself to carry out the process. There is a strong sense of insincerity in my heart when I don't act in those times. A sense of wrong notes played. There is so much passion intertwined with those times. A storm brewing in the heart of a man in those moments of perfect clarity. The climax of any story and the risk of any war. The outcome is vehemently sought after, with due reason. Cheers to striving at a passionate life. Cheers to being sincere. Cheers to meaning every word you say. Cheers to Peter for stepping from the ship to the sea. Cheers to Jesus and his life lived on earth. Cheers to another day. Cheers to you, and cheers to me. Grace, peace, and love.





-benjamin



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