27 Days of Poetry - Day VI

Life

by Tim Reed

In just before the bell

On just before the doors close

Finished just before the need

Ready just before the job

Tired - always

27 Days of Poetry - Day V

Isoventure
by Tim Reed

A pearl escapes its fleshy cloister

A bird flies from its cage

A seed falls from the flower

A rock from the mountain-face

Adventure or isolation?

That is a question to ask the pearl

the seed

the rock

and me

27 Days of Poetry - Day IV

Tail-lights

by Tim Reed

Red and White

bid the night

done and gone

The curtain drawn

27 Days of Poetry - Day III

Re: Sincerity

Dear Mr. Smith, 

     We regret to inform you that

you have been selected as the winner of our sweepstakes! 

25% of Americans are dissatisfied with their current interest rates.

...but if you sign up now, you can receive 50% off! 

we have made an adjustment in our account

We deeply regret your loss.

I am aware that this is a difficult time of year

I look forward to doing business with you.

Sincerely, 

Xxxxxxxxx Xxxxx, CEO

27 Days of Poetry - Day II

Saint-Exupéry

by Tim Reed

Poetry of metal laced with fire

Expectant wings ripple with excitement

Plunge into the azure depths above

Only my machine and I - our hearts beat as one

As we conquer the heights, God sees us from the corner of His eye.

27 Days of Poetry - Day I

27 Days of Poetry

Every day, for 27 days, I will write a poem - a gritty, honest, beautiful, ugly, common, unique snapshot of my thoughts and experience. 

I can't promise they'll all be great or will change our life. 

It's just one step forward into a more authentic life - a life where I meet myself face-to-face. Where I meet you, bringing the depth of my joy and shame to the coffee table. Where I meet the God-man in me and know Christ in my actions. Where I begin to see His name etched on my identity.

So here we go... Poem #I

I am 27
by Tim Reed

It's not the number of years I own
It's not the day or the year I was born

...so Why 27?

Because it's ordinary

...but it's far from cliche

  It could never live up to its 31, 40, or 365 rivals

...but it secretly never wanted to

It never represented a 1, 3, or 7's simplicity

27 is messier than that.

It's a number you don't notice - wouldn't choose

It's half-even, but with an unavoidable oddity

Why 27?

Because my life will never be just another Rick Warren reality

...because I don't want it to be. 

Perspective

P E R S P E C T I V E

Your perspective.

 It's the beginning or the end of how you live your life. With the incorrect perspective, you'll find yourself more and more focused on the small, meaningless things in life - promotions, fashion, departing pleasures, shallow friendships, more money and possessions, etc...

With the right perspective, every small part of every day is viewed as part of the wider truth - it is not for this life we live.

You and I have no one to impress in this world but Christ - no goods to gain except the gift of Christ in us. No pleasure richer than the hope that we have in Him. No relationship more precious than that of being an adopted son of God and a brother to Christ. No fashion more incredible than the fact that our every need is supplied and the way in which our Father clothes the flowers of the fields. No money or possessions more important than our brothers and sisters in the Body of Christ.

Don't conform to the pattern of this world and its fickle, meaningless pursuits - follow the purposeful path in Christ and the meaning that He has placed in you! Why would you follow the small, insignificant things when within your very renewed person you have the Spirit of God living?

 Lead your heart to know this truth.

Let your heart lead your feet to walk this truth.

IT IS NOT FOR THIS LIFE WE LIVE!!!

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." ~Hebrews 12:1-2

Reality?

"When I am left disenchanted by an Ender Wiggin reality, Liesel Meminger and Antoine de Saint-Exupéry gently whisper back to me the secrets of life."

Dissonance

Dissonance

by Tim Reed

Defeat: the only reason to replay the game

Dissonance: only known when it resolves again

Darkness: mortal canvas to perceive light's flame

Desolation: inspiration for the rise of men

Depth: birth of mountains we long to tame

Death:

Human

Human

by Tim Reed

What is this thing called human? 

Isolated among many

Too proud to receive

Too strong to be weak

but too weak to be strong

and too poor to be alone

Isolation is a luxury none can afford

What is this thing called human?

So quick to leave

too mobile to remain

too independent to lean

but dependent at its core

and with need for deep roots

the Grand, Stationary Parade

What is this thing called human?

too efficient to love

too diligent to weep

but unable not to feel

and impotent to indifference

there is no shame in love

What is this thing called human?

too thoughtful to speak

too talkative to listen

but unable to truly talk

and buried by the silence of many words

we have lost meaning in our speech

What is this thing called human?

too busy to stop

too connected to observe

but unable to connect

and robbed by all our forward motion

Where is the ability to be enthralled? 

What is this thing called human?

too sufficient for God

too unbroken to bow

but unable to be fixed

and without a scrap of know-how

we are not enough.

What is this thing called human?

too abased to rise

too humble to stand

but we build in the dust

and we chain ourselves to shame

When will we learn that we bear the golden seal? 

What is this thing called human?

so quick to question

so slow to trust

but we trust our hesitancy 

and we build walls of questions

When will enough be enough?

What is this thing called human?

I am only just beginning to know.

A great painting in a dusty abode.

A priceless coin buried in stone.

A steam-train engine untouched by coal.

The leaves of autumn braving the snow.

Untapped.

Asleep.

Broken beauty - but beauty nonetheless. 

What is this thing called human?

Song of the Abased

Song of the Abased

by Tim Reed

We reach out from the sackcloth and the ashes

From the pit of the grave, we emerge

We are called to the invisible path of Faith

We can't deny the purpose for which we've been made

Is what we see truly all there is?

Or are we living our lives in a world not our own?

Pressed down, we are crushed, torn, and battered

with our faith that as a pauper, we will wear a crown

Despised, hated, and rejected - we hold a thread unseen by all

This faith we have will never be easy,

but hold we must, no matter how low we fall.

Falling, we rise.

Dying, we live.

Dead, we arise.

Cursed - we live again. 

We reach out from the sackcloth and the ashes

From the pit of the grave, we emerge

We are called to the invisible path of Faith

We can't deny the purpose for which we've been made

How can we truly go on living,

when all we have is ripped away?

How can we cope with such great sorrow,

when all are are is fallen away? 

These flames of doubt tear at our being

but they've forgotten that their day is Near.

Through the clouds, in crimson path descending

on a Steed as white as Snow

Will come our King, the victory shout resounding

All doubt will Cease - no more crying now.

Falling, we rise.

Dying, we live.

Dead, we arise.

Cursed - we live again. 

We reached out from the sackcloth and the ashes

from the pit of the grave, we Emerged

We held fast - sure is our Faith

We Behold the Purpose for which we've been Made

Fallen, we rose

Dying, we lived

Dead, we arose

Cursed - we live again. 

 

Ode to Antiquity

by Tim Reed

I read into your eyes

- I see a half century

I gaze on your words

- I see a full epoch

 Strong hands grip my shoulders

- I know your thoughts

Dangling mosses caress my brow

- I know your pain

Ink forms puddles about my feet

 - the same book, a different line

 Pages flow through my soul

- your voice echoes to eternity.

opus 43

opus 43

by Tim Reed

Come, o White-hair

and let us discourse together.

Instruct me in the ways of the aged,

teach me from the heart of experience.

Lead me on a path far from the snares of youth,

that I may take sure and wise paths.

You who have dined with kings

and laughed with fools -

how do you slake your Thirst?

You who have tasted

both water and wine -

how do you satisfy

the Burning within?

You who have walked

with knights and knaves -

what is the reward

of Justice?

The sluggard and the acolyte -

both you have known.

But both are drawn together to Sheol.

What then is the sum of our travail?

You who have loved and hated -

what does the vexation of our heart profit us?

You who have searched out the secrets of the heavens -

and seen the horrors of war -

what is the merit of learning and strategy?

You who have revealed and disclosed -

guarded and obscured -

what good does a shrewd mind bring forth?

Tell me, Old Man,

for I am waiting.

Tell me, Old Man,

if you know such things.

Tell me, Old Man,

the one bitter secret to make life sweet.

Tell me, Old Man,

if you know.

Let us reason together, if that has merit.

Let us discuss the heart, if that is profitable.

Let us speak of fools and kings, of knights and knaves, if indeed justice is just.

Let us reveal and obscure deep secrets, if there truly are any.

Let us build and tear down empires, if there truly are riches to be had.

Tell me, Old Man,

if indeed you have learned

these things unseen,

unknown,

unfelt.

Tell me, Old man,

if you know.

On the Devaluation of Communication and Relationships

by Tim Reed

     It's apparently that time of year again- the time for the obligatory young-adult Facebook purge. Pardon me if I'm not excited by your valiant "counter-cultural effort". But if you have an interest to know why I'm disinterested, please read on.

     Economics. The reason I have lost my interest in the vast majority of social media is economics. Let me illustrate. You have something of extreme value to you - perhaps a priceless family heirloom. All of a sudden, a man knocks on your front door and offers to buy this treasure from you. As you are hard up on cash, you are interested in the man's offer and ask him how much he is willing to pay you. With a gleam in his eye, he gives you the choice between 10 pounds of gold or 10 pounds of dirt. 

What would you choose? 

    Wouldn't you choose the gold (banning the idea that you are, perhaps, a fanatical gardener)? Why? Don't we value more what is rare and beautiful? Why isn't dirt as valuable? Isn't it because it is everywhere and we see it all the time? Why are people willing to pay so much for priceless art? Isn't it because it's absolutely unique and almost never seen? At this time, I think my parallel should be blatantly obvious. 

     What value do we place in communication when it is so easily done and so readily received? What value is there in people's words and voices when we see them every day, in an endless barrage of social media? All day long, everyday we receive idea after idea after idea with no cost to us. Routinely we share thoughts, post after post after post with decreasing impact. In the wake of the electronic age, we have lost the necessary cost of relationship. We have lost our meaning as a society, and what have we gained instead? 

Insecurity. 

Fear.

Meaningless communication.

Shallow relationships.

Call me an old soul if you like - it's not an insult to me. I don't mind criticizing the new if it's meaningless.

     There was a time when communication actually mattered - when people mattered. There was a time when communication was weighty - when you remembered what was said to you by those people you choose to be in fellowship with. Words had value - but they were more rare. Words had value because they were more rare. You knew people - but you knew less people. People had value because you knew them, because you knew less people. Friendship meant more when we were more concerned with the quality of our friendship rather than the quantity of our friendships.

    Relationships used to cost us something. Communication used to cost us something. It came as an epiphany to me when I realized that when I removed all barriers for people to be friends or to communicate, something strange happened. People didn't form friendships. People didn't participate in deep communication. Friendship without cost is like breathing without air - it doesn't work. I can think of two of the best forms of communication (and therefore friendship - for how can friendship exist without communication?), and neither of them is without barriers, and both require investment. First of all, I can think of spending intentional time with people, face-to-face. This requires that we set aside time!

 "But I don't have any time to give!"

    You don't know how many times I've said that. And here's the truth for you - you never will have enough time. But true friendship isn't about cramming meaningful relationships into the open places in our life - it's about carving time out of our schedules because we value something. It's going to cost us something somewhere, but the reward of true friendship and communication is priceless. When you look at it this way, prioritization becomes pretty straightforward.

    Secondly, I think that we should bring back writing letters.

"But it's so awkward!" "I have horrible hand-writing!" "I don't have the time to write a letter!"

Again, I used to believe all of these things until I really looked at letter-writing. First of all, it takes time. Valuable time. Ring any bells yet? It costs us, and sometimes dearly. We have to set apart time to write (an archaic skill for many of us who have a keyboard-centrism that is alarming in and of itself for a myriad of reasons). We have to work through hand cramps and live without the world of "backspace" and "autocorrect". Transparency comes more naturally because our flaws and humanity comes through in a profound way - flaws that need to be shared. In addition, it costs us postage! But it just adds another layer of meaning to our communication. That person is valuable - my communication with that person is valuable.

    My day lights up when I receive a hand-written letter because I see the value! I know that whoever wrote to me thought that communicating with me was worth the cost - they think that I'm worth the cost. And when I work my way back through all of those same barriers, I am privileged to show the same thing.

     As much as people don't stress the vehicle for communication and the medium for friendships these days, I want to leave a golden legacy behind me. I don't want to participate in the deluge of information anymore - I want to breathe value into my words and relationships. I want people to remember me as a real person - flawed and messy, but real. Maybe you won't be comfortable with my transparency, but I'm going to be transparent anyway.

 These are my thoughts, and they're gritty - my sister says that I'm "abrasive". But that's real. I don't just want to be real, I want people to experience how real I am and experience the value I place on them. And I want to know the real people around - I want to learn about them in real ways.

     And this is fundamentally why I'm not impressed with these temporary social media purges. Since when has sacrificing shallow fellowship for two weeks become something that is laudable in and of itself? Inevitably, you come back to your stream of endless communication, like a pig to the slop - too afraid to leave behind a part of your culture you view as indispensable.I've gotten sucked in too, so I'm not just writing inflammatory anti-social-media propaganda as a person with their head stuck in the sand. I know how hard it feels, but isn't it worth it to reclaim a part of our humanity that is so distorted by our concept of friendship and communication?

    So what about my fear of missing out? It's there. I'll freely own up to that. But I'm also willing to fight for real, valuable communication. I'm willing to fight for costly, messy relationships. I'm not asking you step out with me, but I am asking you to think about the importance not only of what we say, but how we say it.

I think that the difference could be just what we've been missing. 

The Fortress

"The Fortress"

 by Tim Reed

Why this battle, Why this war for my soul?
Every day, whether I am strong or weak the attack comes, leaving me poor in spirit,
delving into the recesses of my mind.
And there I find, though it grieves me greatly, a stronghold of darkness,
built brick by brick through each rebellion to His will.
See how the flagstones overlap, each laid by a thought not checked and severed.
And so in my despair I cry out to My Lord,
"Jesus, God! Save me from myself!"
I bow to the sovereign Lord of all creation and weep openly.
But the grace He bestows floods from His very presence,
destroying all deeds of darkness, breaking every flagstone until the fortress I did find is no more.
He takes my hand in His and leads me out. And there in His rest I find peace.
Truly there is peace like a river and it has cast down my stronghold until the flesh is no more.
Here in my soul now flows the clean flood of Christ.

Tell me, will you now let it flood your soul?
Through Christ alone there is rest, and only by Him is your fortress cast down.

The Ruins

The Ruins

by Tim Reed

gnarled fingers clutch timeless stones

ashen locks grip bleached bones

pale books of sight grasp broken windows

rubble recalls a distant past

above, the raven's call

below, the dust of nations

with me, thoughts of the ages

what value is in the temporary?

yesterday slips into forever

today joins the Yesterday

tomorrow is as good as past

- this is life in the ruins

What Poetry is to Me

Poetry to me is raw, emotive force.

Poetry gives voice to my heart when I don't understand what my heart is saying.

Poetry clarifies in my mind that which I cannot grasp.

Poetry isn't for you - it's for me. If I write poetry to please my audience, it tames my humanity.

Poetry for me is true vulnerability - You cannot simply read my words, but you rather take away a part of me.

Poetry is where I don't feel the need to be perfect or accepted.

Poetry is where I escape my bravado and am left with myself and the world, broken or beautiful as I truly see it.

Poetry is healing to me, often.

This is what poetry is to me.

Unknowable?

Unknowable? 

by Tim Reed

a voice of light

eyes of sound

fingers that feel thought

peaceful war

free fate

a world of determined choice

a sea of air

heavens of water

intangible elements surround

facts, King

experience, Monarchy

uncombined - A n a r c h y 

God is this

God is that

your words - conjecture

Does knowledge exist?

A world where I exist by doubt -

by doubt alone I breathe - 

such a world is malaise to my essence

chains of skepticism my wrists embrace

-  a nebulous python

Oh Python and Chains

~ see your shrine ~

~ see your throng of acolytes ~

"How dare you 

question the snake?"

"How dare you 

unlock the chains?" 

I would rather embrace the shame of assuming knowledge

than to bow.

I would rather see shapes with my eyes 

hear sounds with my ears.

I do not follow.

Your pretty words and self-importance.

Your obscene piety of impiety

They are not my lens. 

Moths to Flame

     What I'm going to talk to you about may sound a bit mystical. What I'm going to talk to you about may challenge you personally, and will certainly stand in opposition to our culture. What I'm going to talk to you about will almost never be viewed as a popular thing. What I'm going to talk to you about is at the core of American culture. What I'm going to talk to you about is at the core of modern society. What I'm about to talk to you about is a sickness - a disease. What I'm going to talk to you about today is fear, disguised in heroism and self-importance. What I'm going to talk to you about today is at the root of the death of critical thought, true creativity, and most importantly - spiritual growth and maturity.

What I'm  compelled to talk about today is our obsession with "busyness".

      Stop and think for a moment. Is not busyness one of the prime cultural values we have? I'm not talking about diligence - I'm talking about busyness. Diligence is careful and persistent work or effort, whereas busyness is the quality of simply being busy.  We spend every day, packed to the brim with activity - both meaningful and meaningless. Even our amounts of "down time" are filled by social media, hollow and unproductive hobbies, movies, television, etc... You name it.

 In a world where we often spend much time and money on down time, we have lost the core of what it means to rest. In a world where we spend year upon year in colleges and jobs learning day in and day out, we have lost the capacity to truly think and engage life within our own minds. In a world where Christ-followers will spend weekends at conferences or countless hours listening to worship music, podcasts, or speakers, we have lost our capacity to interact with God on His terms and in the quiet. In a world where we are constantly told that obtaining self-esteem is King, we have buried our inadequacy in a frenzy of activity and have become petrified to face ourselves.

Fear.

Fear is what drives our obsession with busyness.

     We are primarily afraid to face ourselves. When we stop and think in absolute mental quietude, with no tasks or amusements to obscure reality, we are brought face to face with ourselves. We get to see ourselves and our heart, unpixelated, with no perfume or glamour, with no positive self-image or motivational platitudes - we see ourselves in the raw reality of our humanity. We see ourselves, and it frightens us. Suddenly, no task or accomplishment is relevant. No humor or kindness is enough to mask the bitter truth of the unedited "me" that I see. This is why so many of us become obsessed with ourselves and our "tasks", "responsibilities", "occupations", "roles", "goals", or "dreams" - distractions that speak sweet lies over our inadequacy. As long as we stay busy, we get to feel good about ourselves. We even heap needless stress on ourselves like some sadist who can't slake his lust for self-inflicted pain. The unspoken truth that we believe is that even this pain and stress is better than having to face ourselves in the quiet.

     But we are not just afraid of ourselves. We are afraid of God, and we have to listen to Him when we quiet ourselves. We have to recall His truth and are brought to our knees when we see our inadequacy in stark comparison to His adequacy. When we are brought to face His truth, the lies that we adopt into our thinking and feelings begin to squirm. If only we would stay here long enough to deal with these lies, instead of quickly retreating and allowing the parasites of untruth to remain unchallenged.

     We are afraid to trust God's sufficiency. I am afraid to trust God's sufficiency. When I feel the need for love, or peace, or comfort, or direction, I prefer to trust the works and busyness of my own life rather than to relinquish control to the "known unknown" that is God's goodness, character, and plan. I would rather delve into the emptiness of vain work than to make Him and His abundant grace my joy.

     We are lastly afraid to trust God's work in us. We look at ourselves and see where we are, but so often neglect to see where we have come from and the promises of God about where He is taking us. When we only look at our present state, we become even more depressed about our failings and even less trusting of our heavenly Father. How do I know? This is the exact pitfall that I stumble into, sometimes far too often to admit. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one. If we were honest with each other, I'm pretty sure there are a lot of us that get depressed when we stop and face ourselves and face God.

But this was never meant to be.

Truth: God IS sufficient to our every need.

Truth: God IS at work in us, changing us and shaping us to be more like Christ.

Truth: With God's redemption, we know that He is the dearest friend we can have, and that He covers every iota of failure that we have.

Truth: We have no excuse to sacrifice the richness of time spent learning who God is and who He has made the "new creation" inside of us to be.

Truth: It's about time that we stop wallowing in the sadistic habits of busyness just to avoid ourselves and God.

Truth:  My God, I am not - but You are.

     If we do not get over ourselves and learn to spend time now in thought, meditation, and prayer - time alone with our unedited self and with our King - we will squander this abundant life that He has given us. We will take the gifts and joy He has given us, and we will never use them. We will be content to bury these good things in the basement of our lives just so that we never have to confront the lies in our lives.

     We will always have slow (or no) spiritual growth in our lives if we do not make these mental and spiritual habits of self-confrontation and communion with God intentional. We need to take time away from our own self-importance to let Him speak into our lives.

We need a mid-life crisis.

Not the Harley Davidson or wardrobe transformation mid-life crisis. Not the vacation home in Hawaii or the grandchildren obsession mid-life crisis. The crisis that questions a life spent. The crisis that wonders if you've left a legacy. The crisis that makes you ask if what you've done was meaningful. The crisis that makes you ask who you are. I think people are forced to this crisis point at retirement because they're suddenly forced to slow down and reflect. They're suddenly alone, with no curtain of tasks or roles to hide behind. They've finally grown up.

Why does it have to take 55 years of our lives to get there?

It doesn't.

I'm calling mid-life crisis displaced reflection. It's a displaced self-realization. It's a displaced God-realization. We try to fill it with many things, but that's the purpose of the crisis. It's a tension that we were always meant to feel. We still would, if we weren't injecting ourselves with the numbing drug of the lies about God and about ourselves.

It's time to go cold-turkey.

This is where you won't be popular.

When you decide to tell people "no" because you need to spend your time more wisely. When you don't keep in touch with people every 2 seconds on facebook because you were away from your computer or smartphone thinking about God's identity that He's placed in you. When you miss some inconsequential work event because you took the time to get away and to think and pray.

People won't understand.

They'll think you're lazy.

They'll think your priorities are screwed up.

But the truth is, we need this. We need it more than the cheap veneer of pleasant lies. We need it more than a "positive self-image". We need it more than professional recognition. It's time to ditch the busyness for a life better spent now. It's culturally unacceptable. According to the habits of the younger generation, it's unprecedented and definitely "uncool". But it's worth it. God is worth it. We are worth it, when He is in us.

Where are you, men and women of valor?

Where are you, children of the King?

It's time to come into the light. 

Old and New - Old on New

Old and New - Old on New

by Tim Reed

Light stabbed through the darkness

and found its way to newborn eyes

eyes - windows from the soul to the skies

Warmth reached from the earth

and found its way to newborn skin

skin - a shell for what is truly within

A word flowed through empty space

and found its way to newborn ears

ears - the gatekeeper through the years

-~()~- -~()~- -~()~-

Eyes grasp through yellowed pages

angled and offset through time

antique windows set in a fresh frame

Skin caresses the living and dead

skilled and clumsy, seasoned and new

a worn canvas gripping an untouched easel

Ears sentry a weathered gate

strong but frail, waking and sleeping

a retired soldier bears a lion's heart 

-~()~- -~()~- -~()~- 

 New on new

a world without guile 

new on new

a world experienced afresh

new on new

a world of vibrancy

new on new

youth

-~()~- -~()~- -~()~-

old on old

a world of wisdom

old on old

a world of prudence

old on old

a world of richness

old on old

age

-~()~- -~()~- -~()~-

old and new

a world of contrast

old and new

a world at war

old and new

conflict

-~()~- -~()~- -~()~- 

old on new

a new vessel, an old captain

old on new

a world of fresh ancient perspective

old on new

 yellowed eyes read white pages

old on new 

old windows face a new dawn

old on new

wrinkled hands find a new strength

old on new

I walk among you.