Assertions In Elland

Ah another beautiful starry night full of tiny irises reflecting here in Elland, or the United Republic of Tanzania as they like to call it, but we prefer Elland. That’s what we elephants named it long ago in the Early Early Hour when Elbert the Elegant first laid claim and rule to the land. Now we decided to go to a democracy, and yours truly has been elected Queen Elainey by her peers. They know grace and clout when they see it. We’re big, but we’re beautiful you see.

I look out across the whispering plain with my strong eyes. Prancing zebras and speedy impalas and stupid water buffalo and tall white storks are all slipping and sliding around ol’ Wet Water tonight. My pack of pachyderms is enjoying Wet Water with splashes and fountain sprays from lithe trunks. The elly cubs are smiling from one floppy ear to the other. They’re tusks are just starting to come in. I smile too.

Wait… Sniff sniff. Lions are close. Lionesses blending in with the beige tall grass. This is new. They’ve never gotten this nearby to our proximity before.

Oh you lionesses, why are you so close tonight? Bored or just letting all that heat get to your dumb heads? I laugh heartily. Oh and your boys that they like to call “kings of the jungle”? I laugh again from the deep insides of my cavernous rib cage. We’re the queens of this here court and they have no authority at all so keep on walking. What about our masculine mates? Yeah their bellies full of earth may be impressive, but we all really know whose trunks trumpet loudest at the end of the day! I laugh again.

It feels good to be the leader of this sect of Elephantidae. Yes, madams, maybe you should look into it for yourselves. Making all of the decisions is like the sweetest juice from the highest Reddy Red berry trees. Only we and those meddlesome giraffes can reach them. (Don’t worry. I’m working on a plan to get rid of them forever.) But what I say goes, and if there is a fuss thrown, I quickly remind them where they’d be without me. Out on their stumpy tail is where! I am the reigning Queen of Loxodonta africana! My tusks and trunk are the longest and loudest!

So go ahead and flash your fangs in the starlight. Remember our ivory tusks are nothing to shake your pelts at, darlings. You know you can’t take our size or numbers.

You feel the shake of the earth as our feminine feet stamp down… the… trees… Hmmm… where is everyone…?

Now now lionesses, remember who you’re dealing wi-wi-iiii-ahhhhhhhhh!

The lionesses are attacking! I run and stamp and smash and thrash, but they just keep piling onto my massive back. There must be hundreds! (In reality, there were twenty lionesses.)

Their jagged claws and blood-stained teeth continue to try to sink deep into my royal, rugged hide, but I keep running. Maybe if I go into these trees, I can knock these horrible creatures off of me…

Where is my herd of loyal subjects? I cannot have gotten that far away from them… They have to hear this. Why aren’t they rushing to their marvelous leader’s help? I cannot do this alone. There’s far too many of them…

Are these fiendish lionesses starving? They’ve never attacked a full grown elephant before?! What is this?

Oh my dear Elbert the Elegant, I’m feeling weak. These wretched beasts feel like they’ve broken through my mud-soaked skin. I can feel my noble blood dripping down the ridge of my regal spine.

Legs… keep… churn… ing…

None of my aides or subordinates has come… Cannot keep goi-…

I crash into the undergrowth away from my scenic savannah. No one seems to hear the immense collapse. Can barely breathe. I reluctantly listen to them stalking along my back. They’re snarling like the uncivilized brutes they are.

One particular villain walks across my colossal back toward my refined, sturdy neck… One last thought, “What possibly could have happened to my fellow elephants? All I ever did was give them everything they ever dreamed…”

The lioness bites deep into my sinewy neck and severs brain stem from spine.

Is this what I deserved? I will never see the fields of my ancestors. They all died as nobility should, in their sleep underneath Elbert the Elegant’s gigantic feet on the softest beds of grass nearly as tall as our shoulders. Where to now…?

One meticulously eating lioness says to another, “This queen’s trunk is quite tasty, isn’t it, Calla?”

“It most assuredly is, Queen Leora. Most assuredly.”

A Hope For Something More Now And Ever After...

I can't sleep, and I've gotta hit the pavement early tomorrow morning
Working the early shift was not the best choice for this night owl

But I've got the future on my mind,
and I can almost hear my mother praying her heart out here for us

A thousand miles away we're all dropping to our knees
Holding the promises we made ourselves in our hands

And "I don't know" seems to ring hollower and hollower and hollower in my ears
At least "not yet" feels like there's something behind it

The love of a good woman isn't everything, but it's definitely worth it
Broken hearts may not be healed in this life, but I have a hope for something more now and ever after...

I keep listening to Cody sing "My God, what a world You love...
Where men bury their sons and without thought they just walk away"

My eyes begin to tear up at the thought of Your grace
even when we're all fighting and clawing and chasing the cover up...

Jesus, Your Kingdom is ready for the taking
We've done nothing but prepare it through carelessness

We've dug this chasm deeper and deeper spanning more miles than ever thought
I'm just thankful Your arms can stretch this far...



This is what I was listening to while writing this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BMBmfhmHj4s
The Widow live at Cornerstone 2007 by Cody Bonnette of As Cities Burn (embed was disabled for some reason)

The One Night Of The Year That Monsters Can Get Away With Anything

I wrote this three years ago. It still fits Halloween. I thought I'd share it again.

The One Night Of The Year That Monsters Can Get Away With Anything

An elegant waxing street lamp of a moon looks down on this freezing city
Vampires and wolves are pacing the glassy streets
The scent of expensive perfume and hair product in their nostrils
This is a new version of an old game, an advancing hunt for this moment
Enter a perfectly landscaped home with just the right amount of souls
Glowing contact eyes tracing the lines of the masks in the dimly lit room
He spots his prey over the plastic cups in hands of all designs
She's a girl pretending to be a woman, refined lace curving on her thighs
He's intrigued by the way her angel wings hang so much better than the others
Across the living room dance floor he passes over the recently deceased
The curve of his mouth catches her off guard, but she can't look away
He encircles her small frame, it carries her by inexpensive wine earlier downed
The kill's almost complete, but no, it can't go down here
He steals her away from the social niceties back to his own secret alcove
It doesn't take long, you wouldn't have heard the slightest sound
His fangs sink deeply within her as her wings fall to the floor
The darkness of shrouding sheets holding them now
Who will they be when they wake up tomorrow?
Who will they be?

The Twilight Flash

The shadows are long,
and I'm on my way to see the twilight flash
in the gold in your honey brown eyes

A sunset kiss isn't cliche when we do it 'cause we do it right
And the dying aspen leaves whisper their jealousy as your lips hold mine

Trust me
Trust me
Trust me

Freedom, A Child's Song

When they say "freedom isn't free," they're right,
but it wasn't won with the bullet or the sword
Yeah it took a crucifixion to get our attention

And now I know
And now I know what it's like to truly be free
So take Your grace and place it deep within me

And somehow someway we're gonna hear those children singing again
Yeah those children will sing again

Not Baby, Never Baby

Thought I'd post some old short stories from time to time. Here's one from a couple years ago:

Not Baby, Never Baby

Will you walk with me to the ocean? I know it's crazy, Darling, but us together... I can imagine it. Heading west like the gold rush wagons. We'll trudge along through these mountains and wind our way through the deserts 'til we feel the cool Pacific on our faces, your dark hair swirling in the breeze like flamenco dancers.

Tell me you don't need this adventure and I'll stop, but I know you, and I know you need this too. We both need to quit our jobs and hit the road. Walk and walk and walk. Sleep under the stars. Racing the cars along the highway. Wait, no not racing, taking our time because we don't want to be a part of this anymore. We need to take ourselves apart to realize why we don't need to be a part...

Material...

I want to feel the waves again, Sweetie. Tangible and cool. The taste of salt. The bob and weave flowing in and out. We could buy long boards and wet suits.

Oh yeah you know you love it! I see the flash in your eyes and smile. That little spark is a yes! Your spark was always enough. Put mine together with yours and we'll get a good one going. Yes, after a day of the surf and talking to God and each other, yelling our hurrahs and praises as the waves carry us, the water speaking it's liquid love as well, even though it can turn on us at any moment...

We'll build a fire from our eyes, Babe. (Not Baby, never Baby. You made that clear long ago, but that's part of the reason why I love you so much 'cause who'd want to kiss someone they call Baby anyway? Isn't that a little weird?)

We'll sing love songs to each other and to the one that made us possible and lift our eyes to the heavens. Hold each other and whisper grace to calm our beating eardrums along with the sound of the waves coming ashore.

Travelers we'll be. The walking wounded going to reclaim ourselves amongst the breakers, careening through the endless blue. We need this, to be released for awhile. He'll bring us back. You know he understands.

That's it! We're going!

Now kiss me we're off!

The Process Of Thoughts Getting To The Page All In One Piece

It's been a while since I've posted anything here, not that I haven't been writing or at least thinking a lot about writing. It's pretty much a daily occurrence that I think about a story in some aspect, whether it be this "secret project" or outlined short stories that have the possibility of being turned into a full blown screenplay if I did it right (anyone know any feature film producers?) or talking out children's book ideas with Bekah (I really think we have some best selling ideas between the two of us). But sometimes I feel like I think so much in screenplay, novel, short story, poem, kids' book, song-form that it starts to get all jumbled up, and I can't really write anything down without it becoming kind of convoluted with other ideas and then I'm off in some children's imaginary land when I should be thinking about ways to kill a zombie, weapons, cars, escape routes, etc. etc.

I'm the kind of writer that writes in bursts though, sometimes over days and days. I don't like forcing myself to write everyday. It gets a bit stale sometimes to me if I do that, but then again if my job was to write and writing for six or eight hours a day and really getting a lot of my (our) ideas down and spelled out a bit more would be quite better than trying to write on top of a job that seems to hinder my creativity. I can't explain that unless you actually worked there, but let a lady comparing a local "prophetess" to Moses be an example of what causes my brain to hurt a lot while I'm there.

Anyways, the power of story has never seemed so great in my life from my girlfriend's amazing stories that inspire me to let my brain go and get as creative with my imagination as I can to the Bible to my friends to my family to my pastor to music, movies, and books, it's just a never ending supply of inspiration and a constant flowing mind.

Now to start focusing it a bit more and getting these stories fleshed out and going somewhere (and maybe some people or "a lot" of people would like to read, watch or listen to them)...

Jet Cars

Lightning light up the sky
She's gone so I gotta fly

Get her back to Colorado
for your illuminant show

Jet cars need to be invented already...

The Ballad of the Burracodilla Bowl

Barack Obame loves burracodilla bowls. What's that you say? You don't know what that is? Well, go ahead and tell 'em, Prez.
"It's a burrito, taco, and quesadilla all mixed up in a bowl. It's a time saver and the change America needs."

How do you pronounce it you ask? Go ahead and tell 'em, Barack O.
"Why it's pronounced 'buh-rock-oh-dee-ah' of course."

Of course it is, Mr President. So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America's favorite meal!

Good night to all and to all a good burracodilla time!

Silver Pistol, Lioness Arms

The meds are wearing off, Doc
And now I'm soaring off this cliff

A lioness caught me in her claws and held me close
Gently she holds me
I'm a goner if I throw in the towel

Sinews and tendons are strong enough for this
My muscles were built from dust for this

The Chariot And The Lion

I thought I'd post the poem I took my blog name from so here goes:

So this is what it feels like to be dragged behind Your chariots
‘Cause you know I love You, and You to me, love as well,
but it seems I’ve changed nothing in this world
Could barely change myself
Still chasing skin and certain delicacies

I’m tired so tired of the stupid messes I keep finding myself in
Seems I keep throwing myself behind spooked horses
Running wild with Your blessing
And it feels like people think I’ve got it all together,
but that makes this even harder
I must be a good storyteller ‘cause I’m the only one not getting the message

I’m just a child reaching for adult ideas
Why is it easier to love everyone as a wobbling toddler than a mature adult?
I admit I was wrong I was wrong I was wrong
And now my head keeps trying to make it all better, fix the mistakes
But it’s time I let you intervene ‘cause I just fall back down into the dragging ropes

Please whistle to the clouds and soar on down
‘Cause I can’t take this anymore
I’m throwing away pride in the hopes of rescue

Those horses are slowing and the earth becomes visible again
All this time, I thought... it wasn’t You driving at all
My name stamped all over the reins
Oh Hallelujah, You’re the one who’s stopped this riot of a ride

You stand as a lion graceful and grand simultaneously raw and roaring
Proving the lies weren’t accurate all along
My worth in Your breath

And now You’ve given me these roads and I have to do my part
Making it through the struggle makes the man,
But the struggle is not, nor ever was the man
Deceit tries to manipulate thoughts to seem otherwise

Yeah I have to do my part with the life You’ve given
The gift we’ve all received

So this is what joy feels like

My Eyes Are Open

This video has no significance to what I wrote. I just thought this song would be a good soundtrack to this so play before you read if you like. Oh it's Explosions In The Sky's "So Long, Lonesome."



I step into the shower. I let it's warm caress hold me gently. My eyes are closed. Keeping them tightly shut to let my other senses take over. The liquid on my eyelids... I wonder if I opened them again, could I be a different person?
What if I open my eyes and my shower was gone, replaced with a magnificent master bathroom waterfall-like shower? What if I stopped the water, dried and clothed myself, and walked out into a master bedroom where a beautiful woman lay sleeping? Would I know her? Would she be my wife?
What if I walked out into the hallway where two other rooms had their doors cracked open, just a hint of light being let in? What if one room had a child, maybe he was around 2 years old, and what if in the other room there was a darling baby girl, no more than a couple of months old? Could these gifts be my children?
What if I crept back to the master bedroom where this woman was sleeping? What if I laid down beside her and closed my eyes?
Where would I... wake up...?

Is The Joke On Me?

I'm really not worried about impressing anyone anymore
'cause courageous hearts know courageous hearts
But I guess there's a reason I'm still single, love
It's this relentless mind, constant treadmill running thought
Even when I sleep it won't stop
Dreaming of all this beauty and death and sunshine and villains

I know what I've got to deal with
Yeah I know what I've got to deal with

So do you think I'd tell you these things so soon if I really was trying to impress you?
Maybe it's self sabotage or maybe I'm waiting for the one who I can hold close
and she'll say, "I believe in you. You're not alone. You can beat the terror.
The light placed in your heart is a gift. Do you feel the same about me?"
And I'll say yes, darling

Am I asking for too much, love?
To a certain extent, probably, but maybe this is all melodrama anyway
And I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, it's just a stress release, darling

And she smiles and I smile and we all smile

The Hardest Stone In The World Will Still Fall Apart

The waxing moon shines it's silver smile down on me
Sprawled on these city streets with my guts spilling everywhere
"I'm a liability. I'm a ticking time bomb. That's why I have to let you go," I say
I need Love to open my chest and sever the wires
Sew me back up with a tender and bold heart

The Last Of The Boyhood Heroes

Play while you read if you like:



The boy carefully steps through the fence making sure not to touch the one wire electrified to keep the cows at bay. He stands tall with his rifle strapped to his back, his knife on his belt, a rough stick about the size of a tomahawk in his hand because it is his tomahawk. His boots press against the earth the only way confidence can. A soaring hawk graces the sky overhead. It is a short walk but careful now, stalking the enemy, the bad guys, will not be as easy as it sounds.
He follows them into the tallest southern oak trees. They stop underneath the canopy along a creek rising from the black soil. The gift of life in the sweltering heat, but they have taken life away and have taken her, and this boy is doing all he can to get her back, to defend his land.

This is love.
This is life.

He remembers the last thing he said to her, "No matter how long it takes, no matter how far, I will find you!"

Now, he carefully lowers his rifle from his back. Pulls back the hammer and takes aim. BOOM! Down goes one. The group fires wildly in his direction, but he's already running through the stately trees with his rifle and tomahawk in hand.
They are reloading, and he leaps through the gunpowder smoke like a gliding ghost and swings the rifle as a club at the first in the company. Down goes another. He swings the tomahawk and takes a third to the ground. He is jumped from behind and is thrown to the ground. He spins as a Mohawk club is rising to bash in his head. He throws his tomahawk into the chest of his pursuer before the massive club can be brought down.

One left, holding the girl, a knife to her throat. The boy turns to face them unsheathing his own blade. Her abductor throws the girl down and walks toward the boy. He smirks indignantly as he slashes at the boy. Knives slice through the air and both dodge.
Another swing. A gash on the adversary's thigh. He grimaces but stands tall again with his dagger steadied, aimed. A quick step toward the boy. He thinks he's outmaneuvered it, but the attacker bluffed his position. The boy pulls away, blood trickling from his chest.

The girl grabs one of the fallen's clubs and runs at their foe from behind. He hears her coming and knocks the club out of her hand and throws a punch into her temple. She crumples to the ground, dazed.
The boy regains his composure while seeing the strike to her head and attacks her assaulter. He turns just as the boy is on him. He raises his knife but too late. The boy's blade drives deep into his enemy's chest. His eyes fill with the dread all his victims must have had in their last moments on this Earth. The boy pulls out the knife and stabs again making sure it fills the heart, confirming this man, if you can call him that, never takes a life again.
The adversary's eyes roll back into his head as he falls to the bleeding dirt.

"It's over," the boy says as he walks over to the girl as she lifts her eyes to meet his. "Everything's okay now," he says. She does not say anything. She rises and embraces him. There is nothing left to be said. They walk out of the silent audience of trees into the open vastness. Together. Never to be torn away from each other again.

The boy places the toy rifle on his back, the plastic knife back in his belt, the tomahawk stick in his hand. He stands on the edge of the trees, the creek singing in his ears, fighting for those lost.

Life, What Will You Think Of Next?

I'm sitting here listening to Noah Gundersen (http://www.myspace.com/noahgundersen) having just read my brother and sister-in-law's blog about their daughter, my niece, Peityn, who turned five today.

Sometimes when you sit down and look at how amazing life is from little babies growing up to music to the open road to oceans to on and on and on... I have to say thank You for this life. I know I don't say it enough, but I'm grateful to be breathing at this moment in Your history.

I see the future, and I hope it's what You see for me.

The Foundations Of The Earth Shake

I can't sleep and I can't stay awake
And I'm not mad at you
I just want Jesus to come back
Waiting for the Earth to shake so watch me tremble

My eyes feel like they're falling out of their sockets
Should I take the time to push them back in?
See this world dangling on a string

Our hearts are all aftershocks waiting waiting waiting
Their eyes are dripping with gasoline and their mouths are lit

I'm not mad at you
I just want Jesus to come back