Poetry Corner: Constance

Last night, Melissa and I found ourselves watching hip hop videos on YouTube and I showed her this one. I wanted to put it out here, because hip hop is close to my heart and is the reason I got into poetry in the first place. This song is intense and quite sad, but the heart behind it is so good. Mr J Medeiros shows what hip hop ought to be and that's an art form that expresses truth in a way that is bigger than the form itself. More of this meaningful music is what I would love to see and certainly what I dream for for hip hop. 

Poetry Corner: I Am The Song

Image from theweeweb.co.uk

I love this poem by Charles Causley and the meaning that you can extract from it. Its actually quite mind-blowing and beautifully written. Thinking of God as the Great I AM lights this imagery up as you realize the way He moves through creation and our very lives. This is the first poem that I have penned in my journal and I think you can see why.

I am the song that sings the bird.
I am the leaf that grows the land.
I am the tide that moves the moon.
I am the stream that halts the sand.
I am the cloud that drives the storm.
I am the earth that lights the sun.
I am the fire that strikes the stone.
I am the clay that shapes the hand.
I am the word that speaks the man.

Poetry Corner: Sonnet 18

Cover of William Shakespeare

In honor of St. Valentine and his day. I decided to post William Shakespeare's probably most famous sonnet. Take a sec and breathe it all in. Happy Valentine's Day.










Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

No Breathe Left

There's a void in this world where the darkness is deep
Where men run with demons and the evil things creep
Where men have chosen sin and Satan obliged
They've put on masks and its darkened their eyes
So they can't see light; they can't hear truth
Injustice rules their world, but the people stay mute
The people stay blind, the people stay deaf
They're trying to get air, but there's no breath left
There's silence, to go with despair
A world without love, a world without care
There's an existence of death and a problem of sin
But I've found the remedy, indeed, I've found Him
In my soul there's hope, in my heart there's love
And the peaceful Spirit that descends like a dove
I know of the beauty that pierces through the blind
And the truth that changes a man's dark mind
And I have heard the music that angels sweetly sing
Crying "Holy, holy, holy, hallelujah to the King!"
I have tasted His goodness and I tell you it is sweet
And I'm in love with His love, I cast my crown at His feet
And now I must go with the light that I've been given
By His blood, to His glory, I am graciously driven
To move into the valley of the shadow of death
Giving all glory to Christ Jesus till there's no breath left.

Brandon Michael

May 3rd, 2008

Poetry Corner: Not In Vain

Image via Wikipedia

Can't go wrong with Emily Dickinson and I love this poem. Its beautifully simple and so profound. Drink deep, friends.

If I can stop one heart from breaking, 
I shall not live in vain:
If I can ease one life the aching
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

This Child

Do you see this child? He's standing right here
Screaming his lungs out, but you've covered your ears
Injustice rules her life and everyday she's beat down
Thorns are forced upon her head and they call it a crown
His life is consumed by disease, blood, tears,
Loneliness, violence, sadness, fear
But she deserves so much more, every human does
And yet she walks this earth and no one shows her love
Now is that okay with you? Can you just let that go?
Or does something scream inside of you that justice must flow?
'Cause this is real life people, its sad but true
He's screaming out loud, the next action's on you


Oh praise You Lord Jesus, thank you Lord that You hear
That as she walks along, I know that You're near
And his burden is so heavy and its something he can't bear
And yet You reach out to him and let him know that You care
Oh, let us be like You Lord - Holy, Righteous and Just
And speak truth into lives as we give You our trust


And now my precious little children, put your hope in the Lord
Trust that He loves you and blesses with every word
Daughter, know that you're beautiful. Son, know that you're strong.
Bad times may come, but they won't last long
You're such a strong daughter and a beautiful son
Let us find our peace in Jesus, the Holy and Just One.

Brandon Michael

March 28th, 2008

Let It Rain

Let it rain

Replenish the soil and keep the dust dirt

The fire's bane

Reduce destruction and pacify the earth

Let it rain

Let it rain

Enter the bloodstream and cleanse the flow

Every vein

The healing power runs through and all will know

Let it rain

Let it rain

Touch past hurts and then unveil

No more shame

Wash over sins, black hearts turn pale

Let it rain

Let it rain

Flood us with the truth and overflow the brim

Give my name

That I would jump into the goodness and know how to swim

Let it rain

Let it rain

May the heavens open up and the showers come down

Not in vain

But prosper in the thing for which it was sent to the ground

Let it rain

And it rained

On Calvary's hill where my life was saved

By His pain

And it continues to pour since the defeated grave

Let it rain

Brandon Michael

March 3rd, 2010

Little Girl

Lord Jesus, there's so much pain in this world
As I look into the eyes of this starving little girl
Who doesn't have a father, a mother or a friend
Whose only four years old, but nearly reaching her end
And Lord Jesus when I see her, I can't help but see
The Man on the cross staring back at me
This is what it means to love the least of these
And I don't know who else will go, but Jesus please send me
Because that was me, I was that little girl
Naked, hungry and lost with only one prayer in this world
But as soon as I said it, You were quick to save
And it took the blood of perfection, but You freely gave
And I'm so moved by Your love and moved by Your grace
That I'll help every child in this world just to catch a glimpse of Your face
You're worthy of so much more, but all I have is one life
But I'll lay it down for You, this I vow tonight.
Amen.

Brandon Michael

January 13th, 2008

Kingdom

Resurrection, bringing life out of death
Filling up lungs, suffocation brings breath
Night time falls and still a light shines
And it consumes the darkness as we shield our eyes
We beat our tanks into tractors, guns into rakes
Discord disappears with the music we make
Out of doubt and confusion, hope will arise
We'll watch Heaven come to Earth with our very own eyes
Love overcomes hate, unity over division
The deaf will hear the music and blind receive the vision
The lame will rise up and come to their feet
And lead the parade as we dance in the street
Finally there's peace and everlasting joy
And the King will call before Him every girl, every boy
We'll delight in His presence each singing a new song
And we'll live in perfection for all eternity long
In adoring reverence we'll humbly bow
Oh, Lord Jesus, bring Your Kingdom now

Brandon Michael

April 4th, 2009

Poetry Corner: Maud Muller

Amazing linguist with a righteous beard, sorry ladies, he's dead. Because this is my blog and I do what I want, I decided to post my one of my favorite poems by one of my favorite writers. This is something that I plan to do somewhat frequently (hence the whole Poetry Corner title). John Greenleaf Whittier has some great stuff and I'd recommend him. This poem paints such a vivid picture and it has a meaningful ending. Instead of babbling about it, I'll let it speak for itself. Poetry enriches our lives, breathe deep. Maud Muller, on a summer's day, Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. But when she glanced to the far-off town, White from its hill-slope looking down, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast; A wish, that she hardly dared to own, For something better than she had known. The Judge rode slowly down the lane,  Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane: He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid, And asked a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road. She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, And filled for him her small tin cup, And blushed as she gave it, looking down On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown. "Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed." He spoke of the grass, and flowers, and trees Of the singing birds and the humming bees; Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether The cloud in the west would bring foul weather. And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown And her graceful ankles bare and brown, And listened, while a pleased surprise Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.  At last, like one who for delay Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away. Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah, me! That I the Judge's bride might be! He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his wine. "My father should wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a painted boat; I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, And the baby should have a new toy each day; And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor, And all should bless me who left our door." The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still. "A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er has it been my lot to meet; And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. "Would she were mine, and I today, Like her, a harvester of hay; No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues; But low of cattle and song birds, And health, and quiet, and loving words." But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold, And his mother, vain of her rank and gold; So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, And Maud was left in the field alone. But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, When he hummed in court an old love-tune; And the young girl mused beside the well, Till the rain on the unraked clover fell. He wedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion, as he for power; Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, He watched a picture come and go; And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes, Looked out in their innocent surprise. Oft when the wine in his glass was red, He longed for the wayside well instead; And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,  To dream of meadows and clover-blooms.  And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain, "Ah, that I were free again! Free as when I rode that day, Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay." She wedded a man unlearned and poor, And many children played around her door; But care and sorrow and wasting pain Left their traces on heart and brain. And oft when the summer sun shone hot On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot, And she heard the little spring brook fall Over the roadside, through the wall, In the shade of the apple-tree again She saw a rider draw his rein, And, gazing down with timid grace, She felt his pleased eyes read her face. Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls Stretched away into stately halls; The weary wheel to a spinet turned; The tallow candle an astral burned; And for him who sat by the chimney lug, Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, A manly form at her side she saw, And joy was duty, and love was law. Then she took up her burden of life again, Saying only, "It might have been!" Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, For rich repiner and household drudge! God pity them both! and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall; For of all sad words of tongue or pen  The saddest are these: "It might have been!" Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies Deeply buried from human eyes; And in the hereafter angels may Roll the stone of its grave away!

Wind Brings Beauty

I feel beauty touch my skin, I close my eyes and sigh
My heart flutters within as the Wind blows by
Off to bless another soul in a far or near place
To dry the tears of a heart that have travailed down a face
Or to continue the furious onslaught of the waves once more
Pounding and pounding as they baptize the shore
The endless waves come from the infinite deep
The children leave the beach, but the beauty persists in their sleep
And when the children wake up and go outside to play
The Wind meets them at the door to welcome them to the day
And as they run in the field, the Wind gladly pushes their kite high
Just to see the beauty erupt with the shimmer in their eyes
The Wind can carry their laughter or any other sound
And there's not a place on the earth where the Wind can't be found
The Wind carries laughter but can also move in the silence
Bringing beauty to a land that is torn by violence
Rushes down into the valley of the shadow of death
And fills up the lungs of the oppressed with every breathed breath
The Wind brings beauty and blows away ashes
And is the strength which withstood those 39 lashes
So in the name of the Wind, I receive the same power
That was released from His body as He died the ninth hour
And like those saints of old which met in the upper room that day
I pray the Wind will blow me too in the beautiful way

Brandon  Michael

October 31st, 2010

Gaze

A transcendent truth exists over my head...

I wake up with a faint thought of the word that was said

Find myself in a field where the fog always rolls

Rise to my feet and feel pain in my soles

I stand to take in this land enveloped in a cloud

Prepare for the task before me, I gather my shroud

Then I see two cubs before me, playing in the brush

One cries out loud and the other's at a hush

They play for a moment then the silent one spots me

There's a power in his eyes that he can't even see

I'm overcome with emotion as I look in his face

And anticipate the event, ordained to take place

And for that quiet moment with our eyes locked

The fog escapes our line and the sight is unblocked

And that gaze is the evidence of things unseen

And remember the reality of the word in the dream

In that I take courage and on this path I begin

Knowing the fog is subject too as I go to talk with the Wind

Brandon Michael

June 15th, 2010

Poetry

Friday night I was kicking it at my house and I began to go through all the previous blogs that I’ve written since December. Maybe its vanity, but I really like going back reading things that I’ve written. It reminds me of where I was when I wrote it, it brings back the emotions, the thoughts, events, the whole deal. I am very blessed by the ability to write and articulate life and I was quite encouraged the other day when my mom told me that my writing is “poetic.”

And yet I’m a little worried. I used to write poetry. I guess I can say that I write poetry, but I haven’t lately. My fear is that I’ve traded in my poetry for prose (does blogging qualify as prose?). Yes, I want my prose to be “poetic,” but I would rather just write poetry. As I’ve gone into writing songs and prose, I’ve been losing my roots.

Roots. I can’t say that “poetry” is necessarily my roots, not just poetry. I am quite indebted to hip hop. My first memory of hip hop, was at my house on L Street in San Miguel. My Junior High best friend Baldo came over and I turned on my radio. I had it on Sly 96 Alternative Rock. He asked me why I didn’t have it on Kiss 99.7 (before it evolved into Wild 106) Hip Hop and R&B and I made some lame excuse and changed it over. We went about our business and soon he left, but I left it on the airwaves. My dad came in and 2Pac was on, he heard it and told me that that is not music I should be listening to, I was officially hooked. Even now, to get in the mood, I got my favorite album on, Black Star. Hard to believe this album is over 10 years old already. “The fire’s in my eyes and the flames need fannin’” [Insert head nod here] So my first poems, weren’t Shakespeare, Frost and Dickinson inspired (that came later), but rather Nas, Method Man, and Mos Def.

Poetry. I decided a couple months ago that if I was going to start writing poetry again, I needed to get back into the culture and get inspiration by reading it first. I got a book and have been enjoying the poems, but the pen hasn’t touched the pad yet. I wrote a song while I was at language school, but that is different from poetry and spoken word. The last few days I’ve just been praying the Lord will give me the opening line, if I get that, I’ll just take off. We’ll see.

Sorry, this blog isn’t really about Tanzania or the kids so much. This is what I’m thinking though. The Lord gave me words, I’m no Robert Frost, I’m no C.S. Lewis, I’m just Brandon and this is what I enjoy. This is my art form. I want my poetry back and I don’t want to lose my prose or song writing, I just want to have my words intact. People that are photographers come to Africa and take amazing photographs, people that paint, come here and paint the most beautiful paintings, and so on. I want to write a poem that will bring tears because of the beauty it shows in life here.

Ephesians 2:10 says we are God’s “workmanship” the Greek word is poiema. As you can infer, this is the word we get our word “poem” from. Try and fit this into your head. Jesus is the Word, the Alpha and Omega, A to Z and all good and real things are brought into existence through the Lord speaking. This universe exists, because God spoke and we are what He does when He writes a poem. That is AMAZING!!! Something special can take place in a poem where the effect it has goes beyond the form and the words. There is such a valuable beauty that comes about that is so much more than you’d find in a science textbook. We are more than a humongous group of intricate molecules and body parts. We experience things that cannot be explained physiologically. Our existence goes beyond our form, that’s because we are His poem. That’s beautiful.

So as you can guess, by the end of Friday night, I had kicked aside the previous blogs and pulled out my poems. And as far as going forward, I’m sure that my words will return to me and if I feel confident with a written poem, I’ll share it with you all at some point. In the meantime, I suggest you find a book of poetry and watch the effect the words have on you. The Lord gave us art and it is one of His most special creations. We are blessed to partake. I’ll give you a freebie and get you into the poetic swing of things…

Excerpt from “The Eternal Goodness” by John Greenleaf Whittier

The wrong that pains my soul below

I dare not throne above,

I know not of His hate, - I know

His goodness and His love

I dimly guess from blessings known

Of greater out of sight,

And, with the chastened Psalmist, own

His judgments too are right

I long for household voices gone,

For vanished smiles I long,

But God hath led my dear ones on,

And He can do no wrong

I know not what the future hath

Of marvel or surprise

Assured alone that life and death

His mercy underlies.

And if my heart and flesh are weak

To bear an untried pain,

The bruised reed He will not break,

But strengthen and sustain.

No offering of my own I have,

Nor works my faith to prove;

I can but give the gifts He gave

And plead His love for love.

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The Rundown: Speaking of writing, I just got published. My first article written as Education Director was just put out in the newsletter this week, kind of. I really love writing, as you know. Apparently Rita really loves editing. I wrote that article in Victory Magazine, mostly. After I read the published version, I was like “Wow, I sound like Rita.” Lydia, Jodie and I had a good laugh about it and they said she’s been doing that for years. Hamna shida. She wants like that dramatic, adventure writing and I just want to chill, be real and crack self-effacing jokes about eating oatmeal in my underwear. Its all good, just difference in style and I‘m pleased with the article. Life is good. The past couple days have been really nice, a little slower and I’m keeping up with stuff. I’m still trying to figure out the programs somewhat, but the preschool is just about right where I want it. This coming Wednesday, I am going to lead worship at my home group (weird we don’t call it a life group), so I’m looking forward to that. Today was the Kilimanjaro marathon. I went down there and checked it out. My church was supposed be doing evangelism, but I couldn't find them. Several of the kids, including Awadhi, have malaria so you can be praying for them and I myself have a bit of a sore throat, but I'm hoping that's all it is. I’ve been doing research for the ESL stuff, so hopefully that will fit in a little better. Its just hard, because all the kids are at different levels and their schedules seem so random. Continue to pray as I try and figure it all out. Yeah, that’s life.

Sacrifice

"I can't lose focus, because Jesus is who I follow

Sometimes I choke back tears, but this time I'll decide to swallow

Submit my life to Him and glorify Him through the loss

Knowing before there's resurrection we must endure the cross."

-Excerpt from a poem I wrote on Jan. 30 2008

Mike Erre was joking a couple years ago about USC beating The Ohio State University and he said in jest that the loss was the cross that must be endured before the Buckeye's overcome and resurrect. Everyone laughed, but the joke itself was something that stuck with me (besides I'm a Badgers fan). We must endure the cross of pain and suffering before our resurrection and this is the path of the Way.

January 2008 was the crappiest month of my life. I just got back to Vanguard for my final semester before receiving my Bachelor's in Education. A little over a month before, my girlfriend of over two years had broken up with me, my best friend from back home had gotten into some trouble with the law and there was family turmoil as well. If I was ever in a state of depression, that would've been it.

I remember one night in particular. I was in my night class on the Gospel of Mark and I received a call from my brother Donny and then called back to talk to my sis-in-law Melissa and got the 411 on what had happened with my friend. I was devastated and shocked. In my pain, I wanted to turn to my best friend on this Earth, only to quickly remember that she had broken up with me November 23rd 2007. After class, I called my friend's wife and left her a pathetic tearful message and then went on a walk. I have never felt that things were so out of whack.

In that season of sowing in tears, I planted a seed that would lead to reaping in the deepest joy I've ever felt. The resurrection of my sorrow. [Psalm 126:5]

I again find myself in a time of dying to myself and sacrificing. I leave California in less than a week. This has been my home and the majority of the people I know and call loved ones live within the four and a half hours that it takes to get from Costa Mesa to San Miguel. As if saying goodbye to Andy, Amy and the Varners wasn't hard enough last week, yesterday I had a going away party. Joel represented the central coast, while Cody, Alaina, Clesi, Katie, Jeff and the LG fam showed up for Costa Mesa and The Garden/Modern Lovers gave LB love. And I was so sad. I cried so much yesterday. The bitter before the sweet I suppose.

Ashley put it really well a few weeks ago... I have sacrificed everything and especially these relationships for Awadhi [and the Treasures]. This last week, I've felt the weight of that sacrifice and its really painful. But the resurrection is yet to happen and that's my hope.

I am so glad that [Lord willing] my journey is not over yet. Yesterday before the party, I heard my story for the first time without speaking it. Thanks to a great videographer and now friend, Brett, I was able to hear me tell my story and I can't tell you how much it blessed me. I've watched it like five times by now and cried every single time. The only problem with my story about the Lord's calling on my life to Tanzania is that I live in California right now. I'm still saying goodbye and still hanging on this cross, albeit a glorious cross. I suppose my time in Rice Lake will be the tomb (am I reaching for this analogy?) and come January 10th, I get to come out and the Lord will receive glory and I'll walk through walls (figuratively...maybe literally).

So that seed that I planted in January 2008 when I started sponsoring and praying for Awadhi has already started to bud and next month January 2010 is going to be harvest time.

Praise be to the Lord. He is my Hope. He is my Love. He is my Peace. He is my Everything. And I will sacrifice everything and anyone (or everyone) for the joy of knowing Him. It is my delight to suffer for His sake and I await the day when all His saints are resurrected and we live in perfection for eternity. Asante Jehova.

Keep This Up Family

Love

Love is beautiful, Love is kind

Love is dangerous and sometimes blind

Love inspires music, Love inspires me

Love is really scary and the cost is not free

It will cost you your time, your emotion, your heart

But what you receive in return, well, that's the best part

And as my pen attests to this paper my words for Love cannot express

But if you've felt it before then I can lay my spirit to rest

And know that you know of this Love that I know

That causes me to repeat myself, cause feeble words could never show

The effect Love has and how it changes a man

To throw out everything for the future and let living Love be the plan

But when you fall in Love don't forget that you fell

And there will be pain in this Love, I know it all to well

I told her "I Love you", then she turned and walked away

And I still remember how Love felt on that particular day

But I would rather say and know Love and risk the loss

Then not commit and not be true with my feelings to be the cost

Because the same Love that was causing me pain

Was the same Love I felt for him as I held him that day

And felt his tiny heart as it beat against mine

Love transformed that hospital into God's Kingdom and it was truly divine

And even as I said, "Kwa heri, nakuPenda mwanangu"

That Love is driving me back as if there's nothing else that I can do

So yes I believe in Love, indeed true Love exists

And through his death on the cross, Jesus showed me this

And through his beautiful resurrection, His Spirit witnesses that its true

I can say with my whole heart, "I Love you"

Brandon Michael

September 23rd, 2008