On our hearts are written psalms, let our lips speak the same

by Keyoung

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released October 30, 2011

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Honest Empire Records Washington, Illinois

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Track Name: Χριστός
I am my master’s clay and
The only imprint that is left on my flesh is by his hands
All stripes fade
No tear will leave a stain
No hate will ring even faintly in my ears
No mans hand will stay risen to strike my face
For I am two open palms in a field of fists
When my enemies scream surrender, I will smile and not contend
For flesh rots and riches burn
But that is because
They are consumed by the fire that fills my chest, that fills my breath
My tongue strikes the air like flint
My words are of dried wood
So when a single spark slips from my lips it sets Babylon ablaze
But the day has not yet come when my reflection and myself
are one and the same
So
The skin of my body
is the skin of a drum
Every lash across my ribs
conducts percussive song
Scarified 16 bars
A note for every flaw
Each wound
Connecting like constellations
I am Ursa Major
Den father to sons and daughters
Children unaware of their place amongst the stars
But
Great love
cannot be contained
Like wine in jars of clay
Cracked and thinning pottery
We are merely
A cup trying to contain the ocean
Overflowing and drunken from
the our contents intoxicating spirit
Gushing forth from our fissures and cracks
Our bones may lay brittle
But in death they will be stacked
Blazing funeral piers scraping against the heavens
an indication of our crowning destination
For we are made of dust and breath
Living only starts at death
For our soles were meant for steps
Our heads have no place to rest
We wave no flags
Giving allegiance to no empire
For the kingdom we serve is unseen
Underfoot
Not upon the backs of an ass or a pachyderm
Beasts of a burdened political system
When asked, who are you?
We reply I? I am not, I represent the Great I Am
We speak on behalf of the one with a voice like a trumpet call
Isa,
Living water
Bridegroom
Great shepherd
The burning bush that was not consumed
Teaching us that the greatest victories
are indicated by the scraped knees of the
servant
The ones who pad their footfalls by walking on hand and knee
Our backs will become bent in the shape of a bell curve
Gaussian functions indicting we are dictated by our hearts
And we bend north and south from there
So awake children of Zion
Understand the lamp you hold in such high esteem
only blinds you
Let us not cling to the safety of steeples
and spires
Totemism of glass
and mortar
Built to echo till the voices become one sound
That they think is our God’s speech
So do not sit with bated breath
Stock straight eyes ahead in those wooden bastilles
As a great friend once told me
There is only death in our safety
And We, we serve a God that breathes
Track Name: To the ones that can't sit still
Your peers and teachers tell you to sit down
Be quiet
No!
Stop looking out the window!
Sit in your seat correctly, face the board!
Stop doodling in the text book! They cost money!
Parents give acronym suggestions
The doctors in turn fill prescriptions
Numbing you to the point where
You can no longer see the dreamscapes that fill the corners of your text books
There! The edges where the text stops and crayon canvases begin
Framing the crossing of the Delaware and the great Sphinx
the wax bleeding into history
Mixing George Washington's features into a color wheel with no beginning and no end
until the teacher looking over your shoulder sees what you see
You long to grab her hand and trace her fingers over each swirl of color on that dog eared page
Ask her to close her eyes and see it! Can't you see it?!!!?
His synapses aren't misfiring
His inability to sit shouldn't be contained by a water soluble leash
Colors were meant to be combined
Lines are perpendicular crosswalks
opportunities for ideas to bridge
markers are meant to be embraced by wooden desks
they look so much better together don't you think?

But instead they hang a bolus dream-catcher above your bed
kiss your head and lay you down with good intentions and
By morning your wayward thoughts are caught by Adderall strings and burned off by the daylight

I just want to kneel down to your height look you in the eyes and tell you
I see
I see you kindle your thoughts at both ends till they meet in the middle combusting
like dry leaves
They are tender and unfold out of your mouth like morning flowers
Touching the air with hesitation but then speaking with a boldness that comes from not yet having “mistake” be a part of your vocabulary
The words come tumbling out hot and untempered
Each syllable bumping into the last
Making it impossible for adults to keep up and

It’s ok
Because you are beautiful and deserve to be heard,
You can have an imagination
They are easier to carry then responsibility
And your shoulders are so very slight
and it seems impossible they would ever fill a business suit let alone take on
disappointment
If it were up to me I wouldn’t change a thing about you
Because life forgets how to dance by its mid twenties
But your feet still know how to skip sidewalk cracks with perfect rhythm
There are no rehearsed strides between your heels and the concrete
Each step acts like a conduit to God
Because this is what you were born to be
The only expectation being the next step
Your fingers reaching ever forward
Knowing that you will never fall
Track Name: To a girl, a stratus cloud
Sometimes I hear your voice singing in the downpour
So I constructed my house with a tin roof
So I could adore you from a distance

Masochist I must be
Taking your love in any shape that you gave me
Hail is a hell of a first embrace
Your touch running roughshod in tracks of yellows and blues on my ribs making me hesitate
But I quickly learned

It’s better to steal a kiss when your evaporating off the pavement
Than be caught drowning in your presence when the barometric pressure dips
The fog on my glasses the only reminder that you still exist

But still I decide to play the human rain gauge
Every rainfall gathering the few pearls of your existence that my rain coat collects
Filling you in buckets, in cups,
Trying to arrange your precipitated portrait as it once was

There you go again splashing against my windshield as I drive past
The wiper blades catching your silhouette as they cut the last
Drops of you diagonal against the pane

The weatherman, my personal seer prophesying from my radio
Speaking in tongues of atmospheric conditions and pressure systems
Dictating when next we shall meet
But I’ll be ready with my guard up this time, the forecast calls for sleet
Track Name: To my (future) kids
Don’t wipe your hands on our pets that’s what napkins are for and no
Chocolate milk does not come from brown cows
Spaghetti sauce is not the same as water because your goldfish cannot survive without oxygen or in boiling liquids made out of tomatoes
Pulling the emergency brake in my car while the vehicle is in motion is not ok
The hole at the bottom of our toilet is not for exploring, your arm will become stuck if you explore too far
The 911 operators never find your late night conversations as funny as you do
If your teacher ever calls home and couples your name with the words explosion or fire hazard in the same sentence, I will always, always, side with them
Beer was made for drinking, not chugging, they give it a flavor for a reason
Being a teenager does not give you a license for stupidity or the right to drive
But you do have the right to sing out loud
Singing is for the tin eared and the musically impaired
The ones who think treble cleft is something fixed with plastic surgery
When you open your mouth you are Sam Cooke in his prime, Marvin Gaye and Al Green with 10X the charm
And don't let anyone tell you differently
Because songs may end past the lips
But they start somewhere between the shoulders and hips
And that's where the soul resides
And all souls are equal

Dancing is not just for school functions
And no, it’s not the motion people make in music videos where they’re trying to make their zippers kiss one another
I give you permission to stake every walking surface as your own personal dance floor
As if you are a footloose Christopher Columbus and the only way to claim the Americas was to do the electric slide

You’re going to discover that
conversations are best at 4 am
The heavier the eyelids, the sincerer the words
Those are the talks you’ll remember
It’s ok not to know the answer and silence is not awkward
It’s shared, so share it more often than not

Labels are for soup cans
And when you were created you weren’t mass produced
(just ask your mother if you don’t believe me)


Pornography is only two people getting paid
Authentic romance does not begin when the background music starts
Son your sweetheart is not a princess, she is a temple
And your body a burnt sacrifice
Daughter your lover is not a knight, he is a compass and you a map
So do not treat each other like glass, with delicate hands
Because like dough we need to be punched and kneaded to
know our weight and worth

Remember that sincerity may not always gain you friends but it will keep heaviness from your heart

Love the world or love God
For you cannot do both

Just don’t grow up too fast
Don’t be afraid to run so fast both feet leave the ground

When you stop learning hopefully it’s the same time you stop breathing
For every kid is born with color vision but adults have chosen to see the world in black and white
So when you’re offered a pair of 3D glasses grab them like your life depends on it, because it does

The adult world is full of numbers that will make your head spin and wallets and bank accounts that are filled with abstracts, it will tell you that you are what you make, you are what you have, you are what people remember you to be

But realize this if nothing else, that you have a God and Father that says, I always was, I always am, and your empty palms and open heart are enough for me