Walk in the light.The path of righteousness is like the first gleam of dawn, shining ever brighter till the full light of day.
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Name: Rachel
Birthday: 5/19/1986
Gender: Female


Interests: Theology, Music, Philosophy, Art, Language, Science, Law, Writing, Thinking, Reading, Speaking, Dancing, Walking, Singing, Photography, History, Film, The Human Mind, Justice, Friendship, Science Fiction, Cultural Trends, Mercy Ministry, Teaching, Missions, Public Policy, Research etc.
Expertise: Organization, Procrastination, Asking Questions, Getting in and out of trouble, Living on very little sleep, Cleaning really dirty things, Thinking, Forgetting what I'm doing while I'm doing it
Occupation: Student


Message: message meEmail: email me


Member Since: 1/5/2005

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Friday, February 13, 2009

I do write something other than lame poems... lame essays.

Every Morning
When his mercies are new
my mercy is thin
like the fog draped across the roof tops.


Civitas
Sunshine in the city
Refractions in the glass and puddles
Blinding light of Civilization.



First Quarter Moon
God smiles down at night
with his Cheshire grin.
Clouds floating by aimlessly;
participating in a cosmic game of peek-a-boo.

Minus Thirty
Snow-pack like dirt
when we drive we use all four wheels
the wind whips up the snow devils
we take our skis off the rack
I'll drive the van while you jump the waves on the lake
--frozen in delicate spray--
winter water skiing

I miss the summer. But we can
have our summer love while
walking in our winter summer land.
Besides, I look cuter in boots
and a scarf... but then again who doesn't?


Today I stepped in a river which other days is known as a street
If I didn't have an umbrella my raincoat would get wet.
In fact, my shoes and socks might be less-wet.
If I didn't have a raincoat,
my sweatshirt would be soaked through to my blouse and unmentionables.

Dirt smells dirtier in the rain.

I wonder how many songs on my i-pod mention rain?

This is not an angry storm with lots of crashing and lighting of fires in the sky.
It is a heartsick storm with much weeping, moaning and nose blowing.
This storm will destroy Nature's psyche.
It is a Marianne-Dashwood-scale tantrum of grief and betrayal.
Nature will never again smile so sweetly as she did in the summer.
Her lover has left and we alone are here to endure her wailing, until a new love comes along.


Drip, splash swoosh dribble
Swilling Swirling
puking-passed-out-drunk on rainwater.



Can we prepare for a season of preparation...I guess that's what Mardi Gras is all about.

"Is this not the fast that I have chosen: To loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that you break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and that you bring to your house the poor who are cast out; when you see the naked, that you cover him, and not hide yourself from your own flesh? Then your light shall break forth like the morning, your healing shall spring forth speedily, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard." (Is. 58:6-8)


Monday, December 01, 2008

Humanity

I've always been a fan of photographic "literature." Right now I'm fascinated by NPR's list of neat looking (though mostly expensive) Big Picture books. Check it out at:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=97110660&sc=nl&cc=bn-20081201



Wednesday, November 12, 2008

More Poetics

Traffic
Waiting to drive across...
Will the man on the bridge jump to his death?
He must have
             We are moving now
Some people cheer

The dead don't cheer
They don't even scream

The Silence of the unborn souls is louder,
but some how more convenient
for bus riders than an untimely suicide.

The Long Walk Home
Feet: cotton plastered
Hair: basket woven
rainstorm misery
umbrella inside out
Glad to be home.

Autumnial Soup
Puddle colored chlorophyl
Green, Yellow, Red
right side up
wrong side down
reflections and flections
more and more riboflavin-rich sop.


Color me highly amused: a short story
Children eating oranges and pretzels after the noon time swim.
No one actually caring about the condition of the food; merely focused on the playful potential that practical people hate.
Bohemia in marble-decked upper class suburbia.

Moment at the mirror: another short story
Vainly she stares in the looking glass.
Reflections prettier than photos.
Photogenial people don't know the pleasure of a mirror
---momentarily satisfied with the self same specter.


Monday, September 22, 2008

What time is this to trade the handshake for the fist?

http://ie.youtube.com/watch?v=_B6kheJ8zks



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