Remember Always

- Never be friends with someone solely because of the image I want to portray.
- Never imitate
- All girls are beautiful - it is my arrogance that makes me think otherwise.
- I am blessed
- Take nothing for granted, including parents
- Thirst for joy in the mundane, everyday life
- Esse quam videri
- Subjective beliefs are not absolute
- My value is not based on other people's opinions of me
- I cannot justify myself through comparison
- Christianity is not a flag to fly, it is either my Master or my Judge
- Digression is the soul of wit.
- Out of all the formulas, bullet points, systems, and theologies, Christianity boils down to knowing God and God knowing you. it is a relationship, not systematic theology.

Down To This

Is this your standard?
A line to be crossed?
Your only goal is not to offend,
burning that which does not amend.

Unaccepted yet not condemned,
the battle seems too far gone.
So strike the match and run.
We Are The Arson.

Motivations

The source of inspiration of everything I write
the motivation to pursue her heart
I'm singing to her in an attempt
To take her hand and find a place to start

To write what words can't express
In an effort to gain her affection
To scribble the perfect line
Without ever needing correction

One day she will notice
So I can't give up yet
The past is on the table
The future is still to be set

You might say its vain
but have you seen her smile?
You might say its selfish
But she makes it worth the while.

Its not for me
Its not for you
Its for her heart
and every word is true

One Girl Army

You fight it everyday,
as a one girl army not to be swayed.
An impossible standard
The image of perfection,
society's infection.
The media tells you how you should be,
it will take several surgeries.
Perfection is not a goal,
it is a dream as real as nightmares.
Beauty never came from other's standards
it is given by God to show He cares.
My little one girl army
continue being a strong resistor
because you will always be
my beautiful baby sister.

Mixed Signals

Did I miss my chance?
Was love waiting at my side?
It just seemed the harder I tried
the more you drifted away.

I could talk to you for hours,
and I swear your smile freezrs time,
your laugh makes me want to find
anything just to hear it again.

I've wondered if you noticed
the time I almost touched your hand,
I thought my heart would never land
but what was I missing?

Did I ever have a chance?
Should I live in regret?
If love is a gamble, you know I'd bet
the cards are down, the guns are drawn.

Tell me girl, I need to know.
Was I an object of your affection?
I fear it was just a misconception,
and you were just going to break my heart.

They Whisper

Writing something that cannot be expressed,
it all seems so futile.
I've tried so many times
while thousands have tried before.
The feeling of potential failure,
or potential success.
I have only known the former.
Stomach churning, hands shaking,
a simple statement never meant so much,
held so much at stake.
Regardless of the outcome,
this must be said.
The feeling you know,
but cant be described.

I swear she is denying her destiny.
Because I've felt it so long and even feel it here afterwards.
She lives for another while my heart is dying for hers.
What is wrong with me?
Where have I failed?
Obviously everyone sees it but me.
They whisper.
They know what happened.
They knew before what would happen.
Why doesn't someone warn me?
Association would be suicide.
So they whisper and will continue.
As I fade like a picture of someone they once knew.

Mirror

Life doesn't begin with a significant other,
nor does it end with the leaving of your lover.
You know this to be true,
but your heart stands unconvinced.
Standing still they only pass you by,
running to keep up makes you grow weary.
A backwards glance?
Not a chance.
You've been left behind.
Somewhere along the line,
you've become substandard.
And now, as everyone else has that someone they need,
Like a dandelion beneath a dozen roses
You stand transfixed by how you should be
Your greatest desire.
Your biggest fear.
Both seem oh so distant.
You search the world over only to find
that empathy is held by no one.
You scribble words on this paper,
trying in vain to relieve your heart of its burden.
To no avail.
I watch my reflection turn and fade
Now I've got no one left to blame.
I am the problem.
I am the answer.
I am not everything else.

A Collection

Serial Sleepers
Your transparent eyes always follow me
but when I look back, your glances flee
You are what others want you to be
You are the Dead
A serial sleeper
who slays with words instead
A corpse of a thousand opinions
a life not your own
I will rip off your mask
and now your cover is blown

Its time to wake the Dead
serial sleepers
climb from your beds
The time is now
it has just begun
the revolution is coming
to free everyone
So toss your veils aside
the dead have nothing to hide

Everyone arise!
Awake those who are dead
The sleepers who slayed with words instead.

What We’ve Become
This is the tension
This is where we fall
the battle is over before it begins
I can’t stand and face it at all

The seal has been broken
once we were standing so tall
and now our eyes are opened
to our failure in it all

The audience turns away
the choir turns its back
to step out on your own,
what could come of that?

Beggars and drunkards agree
they’re the ones to be freed
though unwelcome inside church doors,
they crawl to God on all fours

Our mission was to reach out
until now, we didn’t know what it was about
Prostitutes and gays looked on with scorn,
our future seems so forlorn
So face the congregation and take a bow,
the choir is so used to the preachin’ anyhow.

To You
Dear Girl,
I want you to know I'm thinking of you
although I haven't found you yet
I know all our dreams will come true
and then our futures will be set

Your the one that I'm meant for
and I'm meant for you
together we will walk in the church door
and happily say, "I do."

So don't move! Stay where you are
because I'll find you
Hopefully your not too far
but I don't have the slightest clue

I'm saving myself for you
I pray that you will do the same
and then our lives will begin anew
By the way, I'm Josh. Whats your name?

Your Eyes
Your eyes stare into mine
as if your looking into my soul
there has always been a fine line
between my dreams and your final goal

Your eyes are more like stained glass
Than a window with a clear view
clouded beauty that seems to pass
but I don't want this gaze to be through

And I, I must look away
you've gone too far, seen to deep
and eyes that now seem to betray
search for secrets they can keep

The Invitation

The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain! I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments."

On Weakness

"The question is crucial, for I don’t think we have any business working with those who cannot hide their weakness until we have come to know our own. We will be arrogant people in the midst of our service if we live behind lies of upward mobility: the higher up our status or salary or even spirituality, the more we have means to deny the weakness “proper to the human condition” (as Brennan Manning once said). Many of us, at our fingertips, have the choice to package our insecurity in power, our shame in defenses, our emptiness in addictions. And we do it all while upholding our middle-class, respectable image."