SECRETS

The carousel is on
Goes round and round
the surface..
Smooth and smoother
the surface..
Sick and sicker
the secrets.

Capes and hoods alike
Roaming, they hide
Smiling a frown
Frowning a smile
Drowning a shout
Like hell!!
We hide, we cover
so different altogether.

The carousel is on
Goes round and round
the surface.
Fast and faster
the surface.
Wild and wilder
the secrets.

Now look and see
All eyes down
There are more thorns
The only rose formed
Eatenby a worm
Picturing hell!
Swimming deep in coals
To warm a heart, so cold.

The carousel is on
Goes round and round
the surface
I can’t see them riding
I’ next in line
Clasping
My secrets.

by

jopherlyn

Are You A Real Man by Bo Sanchez

The crisis of the world today is a crisis for real manhood.

My eldest boy Bene is turning 7 this month and he’s thrilled. One reason: I’m making him a special manhood “Ritual of Passage” for his 7th birthday. I told him it’s the first of a three-part series: The first at age 7, the second at age 14, and the third at age 21. I copied this pattern from the knighthood culture, where a boy becomes a “Page” at age 7, a “Squire” at age 14, and a “Knight” at age 21—and since my son loved reading about knights, he’s giddy with excitement. I’ve learned that ancient and medieval cultures always had great manhood “Rituals of Passage”. The Jews have the Bar Mitzvah. Australian Aboriginal Tribes had circumcision. African Tribes sent their boys into the wilderness—alone.

But prior to these ceremonies, Dads usually passed on their craft to their son. That meant countless hours teaching their boys how to hunt boar, or saw wood, or shape iron, or throw a spear. Fathers also taught their sons how to endure difficulty and pain so they could fight for what they loved.

But once they got initiated in these rituals, the boys knew without a doubt that they were no longer boys, but men. They took the leap—from irresponsibility to responsibility, from being carefree to being disciplined, from ignorance to wisdom, from being a follower to being a leader.

Today, we no longer have these “Rituals of Passage”. Why? Because we don’t know what a real man is anymore.

Some guys think they can prove their manhood by getting drunk or picking a fight.

Manhood, my foot. Drunks are Sissies with a capital S. And hot-headed bullies are really disguised kids still throwing temper tantrums.

Real men have so much respect for themselves, they prize their self-control.

Because we don’t know what real manhood is, many boys, for most of their teen-age life, lose their way. For many years, they get stuck in limbo. They don’t know who they are or where they should go.

As Christian Dads, we need to teach what real manhood is to our sons and also recreate “Rituals of Passage” for them today.

For example, before my son’s “Page” ceremony on his 7th birthday, I’ll have 3 weekly father-and-son sessions with him. I’ll bring him out to his favorite restaurant (Thank God it’s inexpensive Jollibee), and while he eats his burger steak with mushroom sauce, I’ll discuss with him the 3 virtues necessary for a Page: Responsibility, Obedience, and Service—one virtue per weekly date. I’ll read stories, answer his questions, and give examples.

And here’s the hard part: I’ll give him specific projects to do connected to these virtues. It could mean doing things he never did before—like walking to Lolo’s house on his own to visit and serve him.

And on his birthday itself, we’ll have his “Page” ceremony. All the men in the family (his Lolo, Uncles, etc.) will gather around him. We’ll ask Bene to offer a symbol of his being a “Page for the Lord”—which would be a pair of brown sandals. We then bless him, sing a song, and invite the women of the family to join us for a festive meal together.

I’m going to be very blunt here.

Do you know why the world is in crisis today?

I’ll tell you why: Because men don’t know how to become real men.

Because fathers don’t train their sons how to live life.

Because fathers don’t raise their sons in the ways of the Lord.

Because fathers don’t mentor their sons to take responsibility.

Because fathers don’t teach their sons how to relate to women.

Because fathers don’t love and protect their wives.

Because fathers don’t lead their families towards a vision.

They’re cowards. They’re macho on the outside but flakes on the inside. They’re irresponsible. They’re passive. They’re parasitic jello.

Fathers don’t really “father” their kids on a daily basis. They leave childrearing to the mothers. They have no vision for their families.

Make no mistake about it. Families are in crisis today because we lack godly husbands and godly fathers.

The crisis of the world today is a crisis for manhood.

Let me give you this set of facts you may not know:

· Men commit 90% of major crimes.

· Men commit 100% of all rapes.

· Men commit 95% of all thefts.

· Men commit 91% of all offences against the family.

· Men commit 94% of all drunk drivers.

In one study, they asked fathers how much time they spent with their kids.

They were very honest and apologized that because of their busy schedule, they could only spend 15 minutes a day with their kids. After the interview, these same fathers were equipped with audio recorders—and for the next few days—the behavioural scientists measured the actual time they spent with their children. Average time a father spends with kids? 45 seconds a day.

No joke.

By the way, raising your children isn’t just about spending time with them. A father could be spending time with his children watching TV. Hearts don’t engage when you sit passively in front of the idiot box.

Here are the three things fathers need to do with their kids.

First, you bond with them.
Play with them. Laugh with them. Do things they enjoy doing. Because my sons are small, I play their games, no matter how silly they seem to me. “Waste” your time with them, doing what you may consider totally unproductive. In reality, playing with your kids is the most productive thing you can ever do as a human being.

Second, you teach values.
Yes guys, you actually open your lips. Not classroom lectures, mind you. But you tell stories. Exciting, inspiring stories. Don’t leave this to Mom. Men, pick good books and read stories to your sons. Stories of courage. Stories of service. Stories of heroism. Stories about God.

Third, you pray together.
That’s right, Dads. Don’t let Mom be the priestess at home. You’re the priest of the family, so act like one. On Judgment Day, God won’t first ask the mother, “Did you bring your family closer to Me?” He’ll ask this important question to Dad first. Fathers, let your children watch you pray and see your heart for the Lord.

How can you do all these three assignments if you don’t spend at least a weekly date with each of your kids?

Fatherhood isn’t for wimps. It’s requires men of steel. It requires rocklike warriors totally committed to winning the battle for the hearts of their children.

Will you be a real man?

_____

I couldn’t agree with Bo more.  I reposted his blog for all of us to see and realize if we are "real".  How about you? :)

CRAZY

I know that you’re on the inside
You know that I’m looking out
For me
You’re sitting pretty
As I wallow in self-pity
And there’s no coming back for me


You’re crazy for thinking I’m above this
You’re crazy for believing I don’t care
You’re crazy for thinking I’m below you
You’re crazy, you’re crazy

My ambition and every intention
Is to go where I shouldn’t go
Pleasing to my eyes
Through a wretched reply
It’s soothing to my soul

"A mildly-sarcastic look at people who aren’t satisfied with their own life, so they tend to put people they envy on a pedestal. Instead, they need to accept who they are in Christ."

by:

PLUMB ‘95

SOBERING (DON’t TURN AROUND)

Take the cup of delusion
This empty hole inside
Drinks the wine of remorse
And giving cause to stumble
It’s sobering, the changes


Don’t turn around
Don’t walk away
Don’t try to lead
When you don’t know

La dum da da dum
Blotting out the stains of nonsense
And drenched in this desire
Spilling from an empty cup
You bury guilt like sin
Hurling smiles and judgments
The blatant tone of your soul
Creates a blackness deep within

Bitterness trickles through
This vein of tenderness

"A summary of all peer pressures compiled into one. Stand up when you can, but don’t be afraid to stay seated because you simply don’t know the answer."

by:

PLUMB ‘95

WHO AM I?

You there with your bag of gold
Thought you had it all together
But your hands are empty
Does it matter now
The pain it caused you cannot measure

But who am I?

Who am I to compare my pain to yours?
Suffering is sweet agony
Who am I to compare my pain to yours?
My suffering must mean nothing

So, hey there, quit imagining
That you have left this life
Your eyes are tired and your feet are worn
No, no one seems to hear your desperate cries

But who am I?

If I believe that’s the truth
Then I believe you
If that’s the way it should be
Then I believe you

Who am I to compare my pain to yours?
Suffering is sweet agony
Who am I to compare my pain to yours?
My suffering must mean something

Must mean somthing to you, to me
It’s true
Who am I?

"A song about people’s often self-inflicted pain, and what we can do to help them. It is often hard to understand what they are going through, but we need to be able to listen and comfort them the best that we can. God will use the pain that we have gone through to minister to their life."

by:

PLUMB ‘95

MOONCLOUD

Why I spend these hours

Witnessing as moonclouds

Eat the moon

Covering.

So stars alone

Could shine for night

Though faint

Like my shadow.

Why I mistook the fireflies

foe Venus and some others

They’re dancing

Chants.

The night is still night

The mooncloud and dimness

And cool winds

Howling in sleep.

Why I forgive the moonclouds

Shielding the night light

A blazing, clear torch

A mirror.

The night becomes dawn

The moon emerges shining

While leaves cried dews

for morning.

Why I wished to be the moon

safely guarded yet free

To chase and hide behind

Moonclouds.

I am cold now and spent

Though my window carries warmth

The filth and scare again of day

in my stone-cold prison cell.

by:

Jopherlyn

PHOBIC

I watched you sit alone
I watched you cry your eyes out
Now tell me what you’ve done

Is it so bad that
I would shut you out
And leave you here alone

Yes, I saw what you did
I was right there with you
I won’t let you sink
No, I forgive you

Phobic
Don’t be
Grace needs a little more freedom
Phobic
Don’t be
Love needs room to breathe

I have watched you grow
And I’ve stood in your shadow
I’ve never walked away

I hung the stars and
I hold your heart
So, don’t ever be afraid

Yes, I know when you breathe
And I feel when you need
I won’t let you sink
No, I forgive you

You can be healed
You can be free
You can know peace
Never be afraid again

Never be afraid
Never be afraid
He’s here

by:

Plumb

Teardrops On the Fire

Laughing for your

faithfulness -

So shallow now,

Withering..

Your two faces.

Sought to heal the

bludgeoned -

My paradise,

Asking,

All the why’s.

Why?

why!

If I could just see through him right this minute,

then my heart would stop being resilient.

Sleeping amidst twin

earthquakes -

In my head

Twisting my gut.

Better than running

on mildews -

Of teardrops

on the fire

Burning silently.

Then..

and then!

If there’s surety in life that fits like skin,

No pain, no doubt -

And everything’s so boring.

Scorching the rose’s

beautiful gaze -

She’s blind

Unsure,

But for a while.

Then gathering all

the colors once mistook -

no shades,

no grays

Behold!

Me!

Just me..

by:

Jopherlin

04.19.06

Where Would Life Be Withour Me?

I am seen but never heard.  I come within the
night silent as the wind.  I am but an image
that tells the truth, yet no one listens nor
sometimes understands me.  No one knows my
presents but I do exist.  I know what lies in
people’s minds and yet I never die.  I will
always exist no matter what situation. I am
no matter who or where they are.  I am in the
good and in the bad.  I am in the young
and I am in the old.  Time is not a factor
with me because I am invisible.  I will always
be here when people die. I am hope but mostly
I am the true reason why life and everything
exists.  Everything evolves around me but I
am not a common thing people compare me to.
They take my ingenious ideas and use them as
their own, yet they never thank me for the
gift or insight I give them.  I my opinion
everyone is but a selfish person and should
give credit where credit is due…and that’s
me!!  I am greater than Einstein, Plato and
all those other philosophical people that
that had lived throughout the centuries.  I
was here way before time even started.  I have
been studied yet I always confuse the scientists
who use people as guinea pigs, and I laugh in
their face.  Can’t they understand there is
only a certain limit to where I let people
know who I really am?  All those expensive
machinery won’t make a difference because I
always know how to get by them. I invented all
those hi-tech machines people are always thankful
for.  The only thing people are useful for is
to do what I tell them to do and if they do
not,no one on this planet will servive.  I will
always have some way to exist with or without
human kind.  All your petty ideas and inventions
are no use in my world.  I make things better
and more complex, so no one person can exceed
in the things they do.  In the end, everyone
will fail!!  I will triumph over all and out
do everything and anything that may exist
within society. I tell people when the limit
is and they always listen.  The way they were
raised already sets their limits for the
future.  I set everything for each and everyone
person and only an elite few can ever break
free from my power, but I still have the
control.

By Peter Nurman

Canvas

Frustration because words
don’t cooperate with my thoughts.
Can you try to understand?
Impatience for perfection
that’s impossible, unreal.
Can you reach out to my hand
and keep from slowly burning
a hole to my heart?
I’m sick of holding hands,
but afraid of letting go.
Will you listen?
Do you know?
Time consumed, although
time is fake.
It flies, as we try
to keep up the pace.
Watch me as I climb this ladder
and make sure I don’t fall off.
Brush is poised over black and white,
ready for a splash of color.
Flip the switch, dark to light,
slowly change me to another.
Sometimes I feel empty,
as the world is passing by.
There’s a need to look closely,
and afterwards ask why.
Unique colors fill the hole
A Completed picture is down the road.
I look at the canvas and I smile.

by Caitrin, written summer ‘96

Next entries » · « Previous entries