dog fight

So, I think about the lie that is world is preaching about how to find "happiness". It preaches that loosing weight, getting a successful career, being famous, or getting rich for will make me feel "happy". All this outward reaching only leaves me with discontent because it abandons the real center of what will give us joy. The peace of God is only attainable through turning towards the fire within ( the seed of the Holy Spirit which is present in all believers) and feeding it. My friend Adrian Almanza once shared with me an idea that helps me visualize this truth...

Inside everyone who loves Jesus are two dogs and they fight. One is a white dog ( the spirit of God) and the a black dog (our flesh, sin, and worldliness). They fight over our mind, will and emotions. Which dog is winning in our lives? Is the Spirit of God defeating our carnality? If not perhaps we should look at the dogs. Often our "spirit" dog is emaciated, starving, and too weak to stand--in fact it appears to be dead. The vultures are circling. Looking at the "flesh"dog. We notice that he is large, muscles bulging, full of power and tenacity...

Why are the dogs inside of us such ill matched opponents? The question is:

Which one are we feeding?

All the TV trash, all the idle gossip and slander, the refusal to pray or read the bible, the yuk we consume feeds the flesh and starves the spirit. Are we setting our minds on what is pure and holy? Or are we exposing ourselves to what is detestable. Oil and water do not mix. One will be displaced.

Who will win the dog fight?

more poetry

Conspiracy

This morning my rooster
Interrupted my undersea
rollercoaster ride with the seven dwarfs
So I rolled over and smacked it's plastic head.
Nine minutes later
“squawk! squawk! squawk!”
So, I smacked him again.
“squawk!”
slap!
“squawk!”
smack!

Finally fed up, I left for work...

But, that obnoxious devil
Sent a telegraph via high-line
To all the other chickens
And they conspired to get me fired!
Wouldn’t you know it?
My boss’s little chicken,
That mean little beast
Was waiting on my boss’s desk
With a big fat lie on her face.




My Own Space

Tucked up and away
From the noisy rumble
The daily roll and tumble
My twilight treetop bungalow
Each night I wearily go
To sleep in a little girl's bed
To rest my spinning head
No ears to hear me laughing
No eyes to see me dancing
Above the grind and measly place
To gaze upon a paper face
Peaceful planet far away
In His palm I gently sway
And, rest for yet another day.

“Rock-a-bye, daughter
In the treetop
When the wind blows
Your world will be rocked
When your back breaks
And your tears start to fall
I will come running
And handle it all.”



My Blue America

With a humble pen
And repentant paper,
I write of America,
Home of the Takers.

Comfortable
In my small town grind,
So deaf to the Truth
And injustice behind

My blue America.

Home of the proud
Land of the Free,
But compromise binds us
With materialism and greed.

Two million people
In prison this year,
The sacrifice of family
In pursuit of career,

Free sorcery,
deceit! And much more!
Apathy, immorality,
I wonder what’s in store

For my blue America.

I’ve been raised
To love this land.
Our fathers came here
In the master’s hand.

But under the umbrella
Of patriotism and glory
We accept what we are given
And let hell write the story

Right here in my blue America.

Stop complaining,
And start restraining
The spirit of despair






Stop media quoting,
And start Bible voting,
In favor of love
And hope and care

Aren’t we just as guilty
As members of the jury?
We allow it to happen,
And then sit back and worry.

Here in my
Battle scarred,
Spiritually starved,
God forsaken,
Bigotry shaken,
Baby killing,
Blood spilling,
Self indulgent,
Black and
Blue America.

Wipe out?

I went to the Word, Spirit, Power Conference last night at Beltway. Wow, I was touched twice by the Holy Spirit. I still feel the "bubbles" in side of me. I am very glad I went. My mind is different today.

More Poems

My Own Space

Tucked up and away
From the noisy rumble
The daily roll and tumble
My twilight treetop bungalow
Each night I wearily go
To sleep in a little girls bed
To rest my spinning head
No ears to hear me laughing
No eyes to see me dancing
Above the grind and measly place
To gaze upon a paper face
Peaceful planet far away
In His palm I gently sway
And, rest for yet another day.

“Rock-a-bye, Kacy
In the treetop
When the wind blows
Your world will be rocked
When your back breaks
And your tears start to fall
I will come running
And handle it all.”



THE BREAK UP

I used to love you with
A passion that could
Shake the mountains and split he sea
And tame the lions of fear

I used to ache for strong arms that hold,
Quiet eyes to hush
And sweet words that seemed solid as stone

Now I am
Alone…

Now I ride the waves of the calendar
And saddle the ticking tock
And a love so pure for one swift glance
Has left me bleeding inside.

I say I’m happy.
I claim that I’m fine
But, the hole left buy you
Is haunted by time

Time, time, time and again.
I lose a love, I lose a friend

Day, by day by day by hour
I find no fresh water for this wilting flower

Minute by minute by minute by thought
I spent my love, what have I bought.

Not a “ you “ or a “he” or a him
Not a promise, a wish, a hope, or a whim

I’ve got plenty to do and
A Him to do for.
Papers to sign,
Books to explore…

But, the shake of the mountains
And the shush of the rain
Brings only more regret
Contemplation and pain

You know what I would change
In my reason and rhyme,
Nothing,
Nothing,
Nothing,
But time.

Thinking about life

Even the TV shows that I watch point out that our society is totally self-centered and unhappy with life. We are the wealthiest people in the world and yet we all are taught to feel entitled to a glamourous life of ease and self-indulgence. I am realizing how deeply engrained this notion is in my own mind. I want to do without and simplify my life, yet the next moment I am worrying about my next hairstyle and contemplating splurging on a fancy salon because my thoughts are telling me, "go on, get the best, you deserve it."

I tell myself that selfishness is the opposite of Christ-like. Yet within the same breath, I naturally am considering "self" by imagining what living like that would cost me---or get me.

I had a really cool vision the other day. I imagined the head of Christ, like a doll's head, being matched with the "body of Christ". I know the etaphor "body of Christ"refers to the collection of all believers, but I would like to think that each little pocket of believers in an area is a body of Christ in it's self to a certain extent. So going along with my head picture, I tried to imagine what our "body" is wearing. Do we look and act like Christ? Are we dressed in shiny, flashy, and expensive clothes of cultural trends. Do we look like the humble servant shepard or like a Gospel pimp? Another "body" that we have is that of a morbidly obese middle aged man in a suit. Are we living a life of religious deeds and then living sordid lives of gluttony behind closed doors? Are we a contridiction? Sometimes the body might look like a clown. We promote the fools and nutcases who are saying ridiculous things and acting like complete back-woods loonies. They have become the icons of the modern evangelical church and the world is watching and laughing...

But, it's hard to fault a simple tunic and sandals. Not literally, but what I mean is this: Jesus didn't have a home or car. He didn't have a retirement account nor did he keep a deep-freeze full of food in case of a famine. He didn't self-indulge, he was all about self-denial. He wept with the mourning and challenged religious pridefulness.

I want the tunic and sandal life... Lord help me go against the flow..

"Can we trust really trust God?" talk for Munday

I was asked to speak tonight by my grandmother months ago. At the time I didn’t know what to talk about, but those who know me know well that I always have something to say. So I have been praying and asking God what I am supposed to share and I believe I am here to share a story for the purpose of encouragement.

My question for us tonight is: Can we really count on God?

About 10 years ago God sent me to the Fort Worth area for a season in my life. I had recently become a true believer in Jesus. I know that I walked the isle and was baptized when I was 8, but it didn’t really get to my core until I was 23. You could say that I sort of wrote God a hot check and didn’t let him cash it until 15 years later.

While I was teaching at Spring Town High School I got involved with a church in Peaster Texas. It was a kind of greenhouse for my spiritual growth. I grew very strong in the Lord in a very short while. Meanwhile, I was searching as all nearly 24 year old old maids do, for my husband. Funny thing, in my church there were no single guys my age.
I thought that surely my man had to be in the Metroplex. But through a crazy turn of events including an engagement to a Mr. Wrong, I wound up in Munday again. I had every intention of going straight back to Fort Worth as soon as I was married. However, in God’s sovereign plan for me, I would not return to Peaster. In fact, I would see that relationship fall apart leaving me stranded in Munday. I was living with my parents, feeling like a failure and wondering “what next, God?” Could I count on God for direction and provision? Was this the end of the road?...

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poems from me

Poets are just regular people who bleed easily,
Bleed ink easily.
And all the words and rhymes are just heart aches and sad times
So praise the poets if you must
We aren’t that special…
Just easy to crush.
-----------------------------------

glow-in-the-dark stars
in my jewelry box
wasted usefulness
like so many thoughts

one single plastic star in the middle of my ceiling
gives a point of reference as I begin my scheming
in the dark, dark quiet between contemplation and sleep