Poetry, Thoughts, & Onward

Once upon a time there was a beardless boy who wanted to be a beardful warrior. He chose to write poems instead.

[18inches-blog]

What you think of as being head over heels in love is in large part a gust of ego gratification, but it’s nothing like the profound satisfaction of being known and loved.

Tim Keller, “The Meaning of Marriage” (via 18inches)

[beardlesspoems-blog]

That Burning Bridge

Before you read, let me warn you. This has been one of my most honest pieces, and God has been so great to healing my emotional wounds. I was talking to an ol' friend of mine last night, and we travelled unto the topic of Love. I expressed that I have been on a "Love Quest" my entire life, due to the fact that I have such a longing to experience it on a first hand basis. I also told my friend how many times I've watched the Disney move, "The Fox and the Hound" because I also have a desire to have a best friend. 

Jesus is my Redeemer, Deliverer, and Hope. I wrote this narrative one year and one month ago, and God has blessed me through His grace with tremendous growth. I am nowhere near the man I should be, but I am not the man I used to be (that's from a country song). 

Galatians 2:20

This is a tale of the destructiveness of sin and it's effect on a relationship. 

That Burning Bridge

One more step forward and we’ll lose it all.

“Let’s go back”, she tells me.

This bridge to the other side is broken and burning from both sides, one more step and we’ll fall. She looks at me with apprehensiveness and concern. The fires consuming the bridge are whipping at our feet.

My lazy “chill” is not enough to treat this situation, as it may be the last. Feeble attempts of soothing her heart made me lie to myself saying this would last. “Baby, once we get to the other side we will be home, at last!” I unintentionally lied to her.

She was bred to be a wife. She was not raised to fall into temptation, yet these fires mock us with wicked laughs. Everything seems so chaotic.

Only looking forward, trying to think of how to run over burnt wood and thin rope, I didn’t take time to realize I was planning for something that was impossible. I look back and I see her back turned against me. I hold her for a moment and we lie down and cry. It seems as if there is no way out now. She turns to me and reveals that the fire has whipped a gash right across her chest.

She said she called out to me but I was to busy trying to best the flame.

How could I do this? Weren’t my intentions better than anybody she has experienced before? I genuinely love her.

Then I closed my eyes and I heard, “Love isn’t enough”.

Wondering who said that, I opened my eyes and she was gone. She was running. “Nathaniel, take my hand, and run with me!” she yelled. I pushed my hand down on my knee so I could stand up. I stumbled face first to the floor. “Nathaniel, hurry!” I got back up and kicked the wooden board from beneath my feet. Took another step forward and fell off the side of the bridge.

Then He caught me, placed me back on the bridge, and said “Go child, but run the other way!” I told Him how I couldn’t and I needed to desperately find her. I told Him that I was sorry and that I needed to address her wounds.

“She’s going to hate me forever, I can’t listen to You,” I ignorantly exclaimed. “You don’t understand, because I love her!” I cry as tears stream down my face....

He stared at me for a long moment. This was one of the first times He actually came to me, or, at least, one of the first times I acknowledged He was there. She ran off, but the blood from her gash reminds me that she used to be here. I didn’t run the other way; instead I just stared at the new bridge He built in unbelief.

Maybe if I stay here until the fires consume this bridge, He will catch me when I fall again. 

[beardlesspoems-blog]

Some of the best poetry I've been listening to. 

"C'mon let's wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief And fold our lives like crashing waves and run upon this beach"

[josh-trottier-deactivated201207]

[beardlesspoems-blog]

After looking at this image for about 3 hours, I've decided I want this (with some minor additions to make it more personal) tattoo'd over my heart. 

[beardlesspoems-blog]

I seriously just cannot get over this song.  It's not the most profound, but I find its elements very soothing. Yeah, it's one of those love sick, guitar songs, but Pete's voice just makes it so much better.  

I hope you enjoy :)

[beardlesspoems-blog]

Reminiscence

The stars in our skies were held by string. The sand surrounding Lake Michigan was our bed. It didn’t matter how cold the weather was, because we knew that if we lied down together that would be sufficient to keep us warm. We were warm.

We kissed each other’s palm with our fingertips so we would never forget what it was like to feel each other’s touch whenever we felt our own cheeks when we were away from each other. We were helplessly in love with all the hope we could possibly find.

We went star gazing in each other’s eyes. We found treasure in each other’s heart. We memorized each other’s lips. I explored infinity in the corners of your smile. You sought forever in my inside hands.

They say poet’s always know what to say — how to say it — at the perfect moment, but I would disagree. We spoke more metaphors and created beautiful illustrations without saying a word to one another.

[beardlesspoems-blog]

To Whom it May Concern

I suck at keeping up with this Tumlr business. I was really excited to get out some good poetry and thoughts but, my lack of post/words has been somewhat a discouragement (to me at least). Also, it has been partly due to the fact that I am forgetful in the sensing of keeping up with you guys. Because of this, I am now going to start something new. I'm going to call it Forgetful Fridays where I will be posting two posts: one will be poetry and the other will be thoughts/thankfulness. This will help combat my forgetfulness and keep me sharp with my writing talent. Thank you for taking your time to read some of my work. 

Selah,  Nathaniel 

[beardlesspoems-blog]

Oh buddy! This is about the most adorable thing I have ever seen, and the choreo is just too dope! 

[beardlesspoems-blog]

Open the Doors

Rummaging through some of my old poems and thoughts and I ran across this little gem. It's amazing to see how far God has pulled me out of my depression. 

Open the Doors

I can see my breath in front of me as I sit in front of this open door. Suitcases and travel bags were left behind, and I hate the fact that I don’t know what to do with them. Every time I throw out every article of clothing, every bag, and every memory I slam the door shut! Put my back against the door, slide down, open my eyes to see the same scene. The same suitcases and travel bags that I threw out, are in the same place. 

I feel like there are memories I need to erase, so I journal and burn the pages hoping your essence dwindles with the flame. 

[beardlesspoems-blog]

These two little guys, Little Leonidas (in the panda cup) and Xerxes, have been a beautiful addition to my family. They are my children.

[beardlesspoems-blog]

I Will Get That Done Write Away

There are days where I talk way too much, and plenty where I don’t talk at all.  There are days where my thoughts never get written down even though they are screaming out, write me.  Write me.  Write me, and set me free.  Write me, and let me breathe.  Write me, but don’t stop to think.  Just write.  Write about how your mother never stops trying.  Write about how your father never stops lying.  Write about how you can’t stop trying to start lying.  Write about the truth without providing any proof.  Write about Jesus and the cross without coming across as if the story is a lost cause.  Write about life, love, and lack of.  Write about the first time your lips spoke a secret in a kiss to the woman you thought you loved. Write about heart break.  Write about heart burn.  Write about her.  Write about her and her smile.  Write about how her smile makes your soul sing.  Write a song.  Write a hymn. Better yet, write out the solo piece of Louis Armstrong’s “La Vie En Rose” by using the images from your imagination.  Write out the joy that’s in your heart.  Write out the time that God saved you from the really bad situation. Write about that really bad situation.  Don’t forget to bring an extra pen or pencil.  Stop typing, get some paper and write like your laptop battery is dead and you just had the most amazing thought that will revolutionize an entire nation.  I’m tired of thinking.  I’m tired of thinking.  Lord, Help me I’m tired of thinking.  Let me just write.  I want to write.  Give me something to write about.  Give me something to write about.  Give me something to write about.  I want to write about something. 

[beardlesspoems-blog]

Mary's Christmas and a Happy New Year

Here is a poem that I wrote 3 months ago in the spirit of Christmas. I thought I'd share because as I read the last line, I felt a deep conviction. I want to be Christ's brother. I want to be more than a Christian that experiences God's grace and love by living each day apathetically. Basically what I am trying to say is, I want a broken heart. Too many times I sit on the backseat of faith trying to steer my own redemption. Too many times I think that the road to Heaven is paved by earthy desires. Too many times I think but I don't act. Too many times I just want to be touched by Jesus. Here is poem that I wrote 3 months ago in the spirit of Christmas. Here is a poem reflecting how much I want to be Jesus's brother; a part of His family sharing a deep, intimate relationship with Him. 

Mary's Christmas and a Happy New Year

Your first breath of unpolluted air must have been the first dirtiest thing You ever inhaled. I wonder if there was any reluctancy before You decided to open Your grey eyes and see Your beautiful creation of a mother.

Was her touch comforting or did Your touch comfort her? Did You have Your Father's eyes?

Did You realize that maybe all the angels in heaven were cheering for Your first steps, and your Father laughed with a smile of glory so hard that He literally had to catch Hisown breath when You stumbled, arms stretched in front of you to grasp on to the nearest solid object, in sheer excitement. 

I can barely contain myself just thinking about each progressing step. 

You were the only baby that was able to speak both human language and the tongue of God. 

Were Mary's sins forgiven each time she held You by the back of the neck, reaching down embracing Your infantile spirit, just to support Your fragile head from bending too far back?

Did Your first laugh sing a tune of such relentless grace and love that it echoed miles away and the prostitutes that heard it cried tears of joy as they turned to a life of celibacy?

Did Your fingers tease the stars to come closer to that little town of Bethlahem?

Were Your first words a declaration of the redemption that flowed through the center of Your palms? 

When You cried, did the earth  want to stop spinning on its axis just to so it could have more time to cater to Your new found dependent needs?

Did righteous Abe commend obedient Joe for his faith?

Do you have the time, this Christmas, to sing a carol just so I can have a Mary Christmas, because I want to be Your best friend?

I want to be Your brother. 

[beardlesspoems-blog]

ROBOTS OR DINOSAURS?

Hello, Tumblrbot! Dinosaurs! They have the one thing robots will never have... emotions. 

[beardlesspoems-blog]

Visit Original Link

Hello there, 

I just received an Apogee One audio interface/microphone so I started playing around with it. Here is a rough draft of one my poems, "Carry Me Home." I apologize for being distant from Tumblr, but school has been getting the better of me. I promise soon to start sharing what I've been facing/learning once I have collected my thoughts. 

Love,  Nathaniel Arroyo 

P.s. I'm losing my voice, if you cannot tell. 

[beardlesspoems-blog]

Saturday Afternoon at Indaba

There is so much homework to get settled into, but there is a congested amount of writing that wants to come out. It seems whenever I want to sit down and accomplish school work, I find an excuse to get out of it. Discipline has been one of my biggest prayer, and God has given a great opportunity to grow in that area with this new semester. There is a good amount of work that needs to be done, but that ol' flesh and Satan seem to distract me from it.

As I sit down at this coffee shop I want to write about my struggles with sin. I want to encourage my reader to keep fighting. I want to write something meaningful for you. I want writing to be my ministry. I want to be this guru of creativity. I want to be a barista. I want to be a man worth value. I want God to look at me, and I want God to tell me I'm special. I want, and I want. I want...

What am I doing? That's the question that seems to follow up all of these idealistic desires, and I realize I'm just sitting down wanting. Lately my battle with sin has been an ugly minefield; I've been unsure where my next step should be in this battle, because I've gotten so used to/scared of stepping in the wrong place. I fail to see that my next step should always be one that is headed towards Jesus. I struggle with finding acceptance, insecurities, laziness, even depression at times. I try to keep it all bottled in, and when I let a little bit out my first reaction is to quickly cap the bottle. 

I ask of you, my brothers and sister, to please pray for me, because in all honesty I am a mess.  Here is a poem that one day may be expanded into a longer piece, and hopefully be used to encourage you (in some weird poetic way) to be active in the Body of Christ.

  Stop This Train 

Trees slide one at a time across the glass I’m looking through. Sometimes in groups, sometimes by themselves.  The grass changes colors like the Seasons are trying to rush a kiss on the first date, and my heart becomes like words when they stutter, it’s always scared it’s endlessly making mistakes.  My hands shake whenever they pick up a pencil because they are in constant battle with the lead inside.  Ideas are becoming stray dogs; they come and go without consistency.  I’m always speaking, but most of the time there’s no reason to listen to me because the fool doesn’t speak wisdom unless he’s broken the habit of living empty.  Each day the glass get’s foggier on this train because my head is pressed against it and I want to be by myself, never allowing anybody to get close to me,  but God commands His sun to send its rays to the seat in front me and I see each spec of dust in the sunlight playing with each other, sometimes fast and sometimes slowly and sometimes the sun shines right on my face, forcing a smile that I don’t want to take place Because the reason I’m on the train is because I’ve attempted not to run away.

[beardlesspoems-blog]

This poem stemmed from Anis Mojgani's line, "Beautiful battlefields, you are." I could not agree with this statement any more, because as man (including women) ;) we are fighting this world while this world is fighting over us. We are beautiful because of Genesis 1:27; our God is beautiful. Thus, we are beautiful battlefields.  

You are. Dear, Friend. 

The only time I’ll write a letter to you is in my dreams. I do this because the things we say to one another should only be kept between you and me. When I say you, I mean all of you. You are the salt that has been trampled on, yet you still bring flavor to the dining room table. You are the light bulb whose voltage it too low to light up the room, but when we little lights come together I can see every single scar on your heart and the puddles made from the open wounds. 

You are the reason I wanted to be pediatrician when I was younger because as a child I knew that children needed play in minefields to know that safety is never guaranteed. And when you smile all I see is broken teeth because we chewed on rocks ‘til the gold couldn’t help cover up our good deeds. And when you smile all I see half moons singing “Hosanna in the Highest” asking our Savior in adoration to save what He intended to be.

You, my beautiful, broken friend, are my the reason I write ‘til my fingers turn to the feathers on owl wings, soaring through blue cloud colored skies with eyes wide open, just so I can see that the grass isn’t always greener; and the sea will not stop playing blues rifts on it’s no string guitar because it’s never done crying. You are the flower buried under the tar; never giving up - looking for that one crack to explode from out the ground yelling out “The fight is still not over.”

You make winter feel warm inside.  You make songs out of ocean tides.  You remind birds that there is a reason to walk. And, You remind oxygen that we already have a life. 

For when this world starts spinning off its axis, and your fingers are tightly letting go, Remember that all you need to do is close your eyes. Though nothing will change outside, you can still feel God chipping off the extra fear and dirt off of your heart.

That, my beautiful, broken, friend, is the reason I wrote this letter to you... Once in a one of my very lucid dreams. 

[beardlesspoems-blog]

I Sincerely Love You

After spending my first semester at Moody Bible Institute - Spokane, I noticed there was a lot of emphasis on romantic love. There is constant conversation about new/old relationships, predictions of engagements, and specifications of the ideal spouse. I too, have participated and indulged in such talk, but where was God in all of this romance? It seemed as if I was being completely selfish, and telling God, "Thank You for getting me this far, I can handle Romance on my own now. Have fun dealing with the rest of the mess in my life!" God had just delivered me from a very stressful, broken relationship, and I was thirsty for true love. I hated this false facade of love's connection to romance, and I wanted the real thing. I wanted to experience agape.

I wrote this poem in light of defining Christ's love for us.

I Sincerely Love You 

It took two bent knees for me to come to this revelation. Today the topic is love coming from Love’s perspective; so wake up sleeper it’s time to pay attention. Open up from the sandman’s deception of happy endings. Trust me. Love isn’t the modern slang definition of bliss; a great first kiss that you’ll remember and one day will tell your grandchildren. Wake up from the deceit that it’s all about pleasure and picture perfect moments, because the funny thing is pictures don’t move; they’ll always be a stuck in the same moment, and life doesn’t work that way. It moves on. It’s hard.

How do I know? Well, I just looked over at the cross. “For God so loved the world, that He gave His One and Only Son.” STOP. “For God so LOVED the world, He gave His One and Only Son, so that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.” Now if you think love is some type of human emotion think twice, because too often we “fall out of love” if Love stops to provide the excitement it used to. We compartmentalized love to it’s essence of Romance when it’s depth transcends the comprehension of man so nobody in this room could tell you that they fully understand because love isn’t just an attribute; it’s who God is. 

So don’t tell me you’re in love because you two like to mix match your socks and listen to cute music.

Don’t tell me you’re in love because you two have the same cell phone company, so you can spend the entire night only breathing on the phone without raising your parents phone bill.

Don’t tell me you’re in love because you can spend a day together.

Don’t listen to the lies, and tell me that you’re in love because the other person said it first! Because if you use love the wrong way I swear to God you’re going to feel the hurt. 

I’m not condemning Romance, because it is truly a beautiful thing. It’s passionate and I can only dream of the day where seals may be made on my heart and on my arm, because love is as strong as death; so I guess I just got tired of people thinking you can dial-in to a false emotion because the number presented itself on a screen. Many times we get far too ahead of ourselves and that leads to a compromised purity in the essence that we’ve rushed what was meant to be, so that we may experience pleasure prematurely. Disregarding the rules made to protect us, these generations are being lead by degenerates with a mute mouth for faith, a blind eye for righteousness, and a deaf ear to the truth. 

So yes, Love is patient, and love is kind. Love does not envy or boast, but if that’s the only love passage you know in scripture in reference to how relationships work, then I pray that you stop acting like Jesus’s death on the cross was only for show; because when was the last time your girlfriend/boyfriend conquered death to prove to you that their love isn’t just a kiss under a fireworks show. God shows His love for us that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us; and it is that very same love that has saved us from the death in us. So let us love  one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.