Sunday, March 30, 2014

Rubber Ducks


Rubber ducks are racing down the stream,
With unflinching eyes fixed on unknown finish line;
Red beak smiles across yellow faces,
Floating by Archimedes.

Thick skins but light weights,
Not a thought in their minds: vacuum, empty spaces;
Winds and waves rush them along
Further yet to unknown end.

And the boys are screaming and running
A little along the river banks,
Cheering on the blind and deaf rubber,
Riding high on the thrill of the race.

Feet on the ground,
Their rubber on the water;
For but without;
Lifeless interfaces.

And the ducks do race,
By the tide, by the wind,
As boys’ hearts too race, by the grind, by the heat-
Cans under pressure, ploding from within,
Our ducks become us; we want prominence, nothing less.

When empty ducks fail: second placed, third placed,
What was erstwhile flesh melts and then fades,
Broken hearts, low spirits upon boys’ faces-
Did we become our ducks as we cheered them along?

Monday, March 17, 2014

Turned on the music
To romance the riot in the soul
Hoping that the Chopin
Might clear the clog in his mind.

Ah it led him into the trails of
Viola, in Sonata on the 21
Sorrow converging on his soul like a fog
Shifting him low and high, emotions in a storm.

She said to him,
"Feelings are fickle" and he had never understood
But today the chords paint frowns
Gloomy smile on sad clown, he.

The song plays and he tries to grasp
To hold onto it's misty skeleton,
Exo skeleton
Yet it is fleeting as these temporary fickle feelings.

Alas she was right. But she was wrong too.
See, she's not here now yet he keeps staring
Green light at the dock,
Hoping she will come.

But she left,
Feelings fickle stood still
And she had said yes on the Vanilla hill
Felt a diamond on her tender fingers.

He remained lost, lofty yet in the dungeon
The music took him everywhere yet no where
Like she had done
Everywhere, nowhere

He still never understood, the music was temporary
There was always going to be a new song
And the old would never be virgin again
Like her..

He still never understood
Feet cannot be placed on the whirling winds
Solid ground is what he needs
A firm place to place his feet. A Rock.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Deliver us from Plagiarism

Use Grammarly's plagiarism check because I don't want you beaten up like the sons of Sceva were beaten up for copying. (Acts 19:14-16)

Plagiarists see some thing good and immediately make it their own without thinking of the process it went through to get to that point. They are not mindful of the life behind it, they simply copy and paste. They are mindful of the profit therein and not the process.

Plagiarists are all over the Bible. No? Come, let me show you.

Of course there are the sons of Sceva. Act 19:13-16  And certain from the strolling Jews, exorcists, undertook to name the name of the Lord Jesus over those having evil spirits, saying, We adjure you by Jesus whom Paul preaches.  And there were seven sons of Sceva, a Jewish chief priest, who did so.  But answering the evil spirit said, Jesus I know, and I comprehend Paul, but who are you?   And the man in whom the evil spirit resided leaped on them, and overcoming them he was strong against them, so that they fled out of the house naked and wounded.

Then there are those seeking to be made whole by the law thinking it can do the same thing that only the Spirit of God can do. There are some found in the church in Galatia to whom Paul rebukes and asks - "Gal 3:1  O foolish Galatians, who bewitched you not to obey the truth, to whom before your eyes Jesus Christ was written among you crucified? 2  This only I would learn from you: Did you receive the Spirit by works of the law, or by hearing of faith? 3  Are you so foolish? Having begun in the Spirit, do you now perfect yourself in the flesh?

There are so many, Cain, Hagar, Ishmael, Sinai, Esau. In a sense, their offering was not perfect because it was an attempt to be like the real thing - Abel, Sarah, Isaac, Zion, Jacob, the chosen thing.

The life of God is a life. It is not a system of practises, rather a life. That is what I feel I have missed for a long time. I have read the Bible, listened to sermons, seen beautiful sounding quotes and tried to have myself fit into that mould. I attempted to memorise them and apply them to myself. I thought I could apply the nature of God to myself like painting a house a new colour. I was wrong.

I was often told to "act like" before being told who I was. Long sermons were spent on getting me to be a certain type of man and few were telling me the kind of man I am. I was plagiarising God's nature and constantly ruining myself because no matter how much I tried to live up to it, I could never do it.

I was thrown into a story whose beginning I did not know but whose end I wanted. I thought it was about me and my efforts. Call me plagiarist 101. I did not know the heart of the Father from the start - that we may be one with Him. I thought I was being saved from destruction and that my life depended on keeping to the system I'd been given.

And then some one said "The greatness of God's gift to us is that one man is put away in Christ's death and another Man is offered in Christ's resurrection. First we are granted a death that we could not die. Then we are offered a life that we could not live. This is the grace of God and the great triumph of the cross."

What do we do? We receive it. By faith.

Plagiarists will oft walk by sight not by faith and to them what matters most is the things that are seen not the unseen, yet the things that are seen pass away but the unseen are eternal. In the artistic, it is a call to be true to yourself, what is in you. Bring it out, you do not need to copy someone else's thing. Let your process be. Do not hack/ short cut it.  In the spiritual, may we let Him mould us. And not be quickly moved by the perfect picture we see. May we let Him be that transforming.

2Co 3:18  But we all, with our face having been unveiled, having beheld the glory of the Lord as in a mirror, are being changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Lord Spirit.

May we be delivered from plagiarism, in an artistic and spiritual sense.


Monday, March 03, 2014

Present truths from old journeys

Journals are good. You find answers to questions you're asking now that you had asked before. We forget, it seems, quickly forget that just the other day we were unshackled of our chains and led out of Egypt with no agitation of our own.

That we walked through the waters of the Red Sea and saw a Pharaoh and his army interred therein. We forget quickly.

"Anything on the ground of you is not Him."

Nostalgia; lost time;unforgotten loss; break ups that hurt, heartbreaks that scorched. It seeps in slowly;unnoticed; unawares till the bile is at the tip of your tongue.

I look back and forget the fate of Lot's wife yet not looking is not the solution either. "You left your heart there in Sodom; Egypt - a thousand miles away from it and you still knew where your treasure was.

Even after the fires of heaven consumed Sodom, even after the waters swallowed the strength of Egypt- they remained alive in you; they were home to you."

"Her salty kiss that was sweet as red wine, her dovely eyes that would lock you in her gaze - they lingered. They were Lazarus' tomb four days after burial but to you they smelled like lilacs fresh from the meadows."

"You endured the death of these things but never stayed for their burial. They were as alive as you."

"So they haunt. They haunt you on those long sleepless nights where the air is hot and the sound is gone. They tease your mind with flashes of sunsets and laughter. In that moment, you would become a necromancer - flirting with the dead yet here you are very alive."

So I open the journal, and go back to sane thoughts. To dig up the answers I once had; the truths I'd at one time embraced; the light I walked in.

"She burns - your beloved Sodom
She drowns - the captor you loved, Egypt
She's the past that you ought to inter
For behold He does a new thing-
For look with your eyes, He is the new thing"

"Rest my son. Rest. You're not in a hurry. Everything else passes away but do I pass away, Joel? I am eternal. Stop rushing. Stop being impatient. Trust me. I love you. Seek me. Desire me. Joel, until everything else wanes in light of me, you will always break your heart. So rest... I am treasure, Joel, quit trinkets. Rest in Me, my son. Rest."