Monday, October 19, 2009

Rights versus responsibilities

So, I think God is trying to tell me something. I mean, I'd have to be really thick to not realise that by now, as I've done the same dumb, stupid, irresponsible thing twice now, with some serious consequences. Serious for me, perhaps not so serious for others.
And I'm slowly finding out that trusting anyone and everyone is a terrible idea, and as much as people are funny, or exciting to hang around, they are not trustworthy people.
Who'da thought huh?

It really sucks though, because I try to be trustworthy, and I don't understand why others don't at least try.
I mean, I have failed plenty of times and quite spectacularly too, but I like to think that I try.

Anyways, I am beginning to realise that my rights decrease as my responsibilities increase, and I'm finding that I'm ok with that. It was just the realising that's tough. Like Paul says in Corinthians, be careful that the exercise of your freedom isn't a stumbling block to others. I may have the freedom to do all things, but if I want to be true to my calling, I must remember 'others first'. I could always throw the towel in, but it's worth so much more than that!

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Poems of a 17 Year Old Girl

flippant remarks about the poverty of the soul
languid indifference sliding into a metal bowl
but the bowl refuses to feed
instead prolonging their need
absurdity becomes a commodity
insanity now a luxury

eyes clouded by belabored breath
joy noiselessly ripped away
life drops
love pours
into a vacuum
hopelessly black, devoid of red
no more green
Chaos is King of all
Random is his Queen
their offspring;
Wither, Waste, Weep.

How does the warrior not tremble before eternal insentience?
For him-is laughter inconsequential?
the trumpet slices the air, harbinger of death
the rape of the soul endured
leaping over anguish, deferred grief burns savagely
does she weep for him? how? when does she find the time?
or does time stop, only to have itself stolen from those who need it most?
where does yesterday live? where does that whispered joke or secret smile find meaning?
is there a doorway they pass through, only to have it vanish, forbidden?
childhood taken hostage by the wrist, icy fingers refusing to unfurl, cutting deep
conversations existing only in the mists of memory, embraces and promises drawing reason from wistful sighs