“Oh it’s true I’d do anything to have you back,

So long as I can return with my pride in tact”

Oh the look upon Your face as an answer You return

“You’ve still got a lot of lessons left to learn,

Because without humility, you will never yearn;

Don’t you see, my son, that’s what you must learn,

Until I AM all you have, all else, yes, everything, must burn.

We’ll gather all the ashes, and place them in an urn,

Along with all your dead ideals like ‘love is something earned.’

You can write your name on an ivory plaque,

Your own epitaph: No Turning Back.”

“But, but, but…” I say—and you reply “away

With your excuses; they’re none of my concern.

My child, I watched you go astray,

But you are mine, and I shall have you return.”

I say “if you want me God, you’re in for a fight;

If you want me take me; wrestle me tonight.

“Do what You must do,” I said, in a final undefiant act.

I need to know if you are real and more than just abstract

You touched Jacob’s hip, and I feel you take me back.




It’s better to be broken and Yours than wholly my own

A grace I’ve never known before; to the world it must be shown.



(c)2011, jsm





Desperately, he seeks approval

For removal of his helplessness

Yet incredulous, he can’t accept

That he won’t be swept under your rug

A hug might be the spark plug

The caffeine in his coffee mug

The first shovel that has ever dug

Into his drug addled heart




(this was gonna be four lines, but they were running a buy one get one free special, so you get eight)



I rarely feel more emasculated than when I cannot make a decision. Alternately, I feel quite manly when I do make a decision. I like being decisive, but I fear making the wrong decisions, especially major ones, because I do not want to be stupid. Of course, stupidity is emasculating too; yes, others may disagree and say stupidity is quite the male trait, but I digress. I do not believe I am stupid, but I am afraid of failure, afraid of the unknown. Is failure unknown because I am successful or because I do not take enough risks where I could fail? I fear it is the latter.

I do not fear spiders. I do not fear snakes. I do not fear heights. I do not fear the dark.

I do fear having lived out my life and not having had something to die for. I fear dying without having had something to live for.

And I do fear being alone. I do fear burning my bridges.

So I try to keep all my bridges up and supported. I am so busy holding them up, I forget to cross them. And really what is a bridge for if not to cross?

What is one to do when they both love and hate making decisions?

I do what any logical person would do. I fill my days with mundane and meaningless decisions: What should I eat? Should I get up this morning? What should I wear? Should I read the news or check my messages first? Should I…? Should I…? Should I…?

So I get a cheap fix from what will never ultimately be important. Like eating toaster pastries for breakfast, grilled cheese for lunch, and ramen for dinner. It will fill you up but never truly feed you.

Decisions. I need to make some—throw them in a pot, turn the heat to high, make them boil. Let stand until ready to serve. A meal fit for a king.

Four Lines

You may have noticed that I’ve been posting a some very brief four line poems lately. The first one was silly yet sincere, the second sincere yet silly. The third, just posted, is less silly.

I think I’m going to adopt these four line poems as a writing discipline for myself. Something to serve as a bare minimum of practice to write every day. It’s something to both challenge me and be fun. I’ll, of course, continue to write other stuff, but if you know me, what I need most is discipline to write something everyday. So there it is.

I don’t claim they’re any good; they’ll probably mostly be unimpressive, but at the same time, less can be more. I hope you’ll enjoy them for what they are. Even if you don’t, that’s plenty ok too. I will be tagging them all as “Four Lines”



I abandoned Xanga awhile back for WordPress. I don’t know why. I had readers there. But WordPress is much better, except that I don’t have readers here. But now I feel I’m abandoning WordPress for Tumblr. I also don’t know why. WordPress is so much more stable and can be customized, and you can randomly click through and surf to other blogs… but I have friends at Tumblr, and my Tumblr is prettier. But anyway. I’ll keep posting at both, but Tumblr is getting bonus content. Except for this post, which is WordPress bonus content. Weird how that works.


That post brought to you by two cups of late night coffee, a stomach full of hot sauce, and a hatred of doing mundane homework.