Poetry

The Toil of the Royals

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I used to think it would be cool to have my name written on a star
but they get trampled on a lot more
than I thought more
I think about it though
I can relate
to footprints on my face
these life stories sampled from plots formed
at angles we didn’t even know were possible
we lean into these summer evenings
in white t-shirts and blue dreams
silhouettes all tangled up in blue beams
and tonight
smells like popcorn
but all these superheroes can only save us for a couple hours
before exit signs expertly escort us down hallways

we spill out all over the concrete
only there are no ushers to clean us up before the next showing
bemoaning the body blows
of reality juxtaposing its fists into the pits of our stomachs
you know it as well
as you know the smell
before it rains
and it’s ash raining down
volcanoes of crushed hope, flurries of hashtags
and it’s like we’re just the butt of jokes in dirty ash tray towns
there’s no uber to lyft us to the promised land
there’s no app for
these mostly meaningless moments that don’t make it to instagram
Lorde said “we’ll never be royals…”
inevitably we toil in the fields
settling for soil
I guess because it just feels
more familiar to our heels
thrashing in these tabernacles of clay
decking the halls with wrecking balls
antagonists on the ragged papyrus of our own screenplays
we scroll on
no wonder we yearn for the reinforcing ropes of intertwined fingers
we’re just trying to hold on
we’re just trying to hold on


shout out to the survivors
living for something can be a lot harder than dying for it
we’re just out here trying for it
sometimes our status here would have us fear
but there’s something super magical about the supernatural strength
we receive in our weakness
the Lord said we’d be royals
do we believe it?
if this is what carbon does at room temperature
imagine what it does in the flames of sanctification
like if dust could become us
us couldn’t become indestructible?
we look up beyond the stratosphere
and marvel at heavenly bodies
and forget the majestic heritage that we inherited
well, here’s a prayer for the heritage
cuz we got a flair for the heritage
if we could just dare to wear the heritage
I mean the crown of creation
the triumph of transformation
the eternal endurance of exaltation
these are the merits of illumination
so let the light come
there’s a reason our day dreams are so much sweeter than our night ones

life is not a highway
it’s a runway
we are not confined to this asphalt
we are not defined by past faults
but future victories
with these wings the sky is not even the limit
because the real superhero saved us for a couple forevers
and he didn’t suffer in the garden so that we’d have to stay in it
that’s a sovereignty worth honoring
and it’s why
every single book of life is worth authoring
this is our world
let’s play in it, embody the experience
until the day they make statues of us
shaped out of godly experience
befitting to who we are
there’s no need to audition
to be figures on some worldly boulevard
our names are already written
in the stars

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We Keep Searching

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we keep searching
on this earth
we’ve got a lot of problems
and turbulence
we’re yearning for the permanence
of peace while worshipping
the world and short-circuiting
the firmament of our souls
dispersing bandaids over broken hearts
that might as well be broken dams
fervently fumbling for fulfillment in the flesh
but never feeling full

determined that we’re the answers to our own questions
asserting that we just need more time, more data
more likes, more status
THIS will give life meaning
certainly THESE are the ingredients
I mean, they keep telling me
that autonomy is far supreme to obedience

turning to pop stars instead of prophets
and pondering why we’re still lost in the stars
encircling ourselves in burning rings of fire
and murmuring that it’s getting hot in here
impertinently purging eternity to make room
for right now

thirsting for justice to fill these cups with
urgently hurling ourselves into understanding books
while swerving around the only book that understands us and
over-exerting ourselves trying to fix all the laws of the land
as if they could somehow fix all the flaws of man

consumed by our consumption
immortalized by our memes and
demoralized by our demons
squirming to circumvent the nets of our flix
and the inevitable consequences of our internet clicks
as if we don’t become what we normalize

God is only for funerals
and helping us complete our acronyms
OMG
look at these new high resolution pictures of eclipses on Jupiter
in awe of creation but cynical of its significance
we wince in insolence
as the politicians bicker about the incidents
the poets wistfully journal the predicaments
and the musicians petition their instruments
for any diminishing whims of winsomeness as we twist in the winds
of this…
cognitive dissonance

we keep hurting

we keep searching

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Pride & Prejudice (My Privilege) feat. The Rogue Pianist

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my silence is a luxury
so here, let me break it
take a minute and tell you about my privilege
I was privileged to grow up without a mom
because when she was 12 she was privileged to watch her mom drown
PTSD’s gift to me was fetal alcohol syndrome
followed by leaving without even calling syndrome
so I could blame water for my motherlessness
forsake the ocean, never ride a wave
berate rivers, never surrender my gaze
to a waterfall
never run through a sprinkler
hate my kitchen faucet
become a spigot bigot
and never drink from it again
but when I shower every morning
there isn’t a single drop of oppression in it
maybe that’s the lesson in it

I spent years of my life on the playground shooting baskets
and never once worried about who’s shooting back, and
no one ever asked me what size my Jordans were
while clenching their fists
and no one ever rolled through my neighborhood
to apprehend me and frisk
no one ever threatened me with a lynching
I never had to risk my life
to get groceries
my baggage always made it through customs

in every chapter of my life story
my sentences always matched my crimes

I walk into Barnes and Noble
and I feel like falling to the floor and crying
because despite trying
I can never read about every iniquity
or abolish every evil that has ever happened to
every people in world history

you could fill a stadium of pages with the heinousness done by one group of humans to another
and we haven’t even been here that long
aliens are like what the heck is going on
on that pale blue dot over in sector four
why can’t they respect each other more

genocide, caste systems, slavery, holocausts
the loftiness of haughtiness
all because somebody wants to feel superior
if someone else is at the bottom of the food chain
we’ll always have something to eat
but these are empty calories
fraudulent food fraught with saturated fat
rotting in the bowels of self esteem
and fabricated facts
no matter how it might be disguised
racism is just pride personified
and we keep buying into the lie
looking for the shortest path between poverty and prospering
as the jim crow flies

America hasn’t been so beautiful
for everyone under these spacious skies
oh, God shed his grace
but we didn’t do so good with the brotherhood
freedom rang and we dismissed the call
too busy crushing candy
to deal with the real clash of clans
just going with status quo
going with status quo
going with status quo
that we know like the back of our hands
no one buys a box of crayons labeled “64 same colors”
but we keep trying to paint the sky with homogenized hues
and compromised views

I’ve never even seen a plantation
but I did see Boyz in the Hood
and I still have 100 miles of NWA cassette tape running through the gears of my consciousness
looking back
I can sort of see how murder, aggression, and misogyny
could further nurture impressions and ideologies
a confession –
I wanted to be black for the coolness
I didn’t know much about the past and the cruelness
I did hate Michael Jordan, but not because of his skin color
but because of his rival jersey color
and because he could fly
and I would never experience the air up there
like that free throw line was a launch pad into heaven
I loved Isiah Thomas because he was on my team
I cried when they wouldn’t let me be #11

but maybe there’s more to black people than gangsta rap and basketball
maybe there’s more to white people than dogs and yoga
maybe there’s no such thing as black people or white people
and this is all a ruse
maybe if we quit sitting at separate lunch tables
we could share some food for thought and a soda

if these skeletons stay in the closet
they will always haunt us
no governmental policy can fix ignorance
this is on us
you can’t legislate love
or enforce empathy
and enmity is definitely not the remedy
making America hate
is not the way to make America great
I fear for America’s fate
if we can’t escape the penitentiaries of our vain imaginations
decades and centuries of
decadence and censuring
inequity and injustice
this is now
we stand here face to face
and either it just is
or it’s just us
this is how we coexist
one open hand of humility
will transcend the futility of a thousand closed fists
this is vowing to dispose of these myths
and close these rifts

instead of seeking privilege
the best we can be is a privilege to someone that knows hatred
the most perfect person who ever lived was the least privileged
and the most hated
and he only wanted to be a privilege
to those that hated
so I guess that’s how we know we’ve made it
it turns out this whole thing is complicated
there are no silver bullets
but let me be a silver lining
I can’t walk in your shoes
but I can wash your feet
I think we can all agree
that we’ve stepped in some… awful things

but these crooked ways will be made straight
these valleys will be exalted
these mountains will fall and we will all see
the glory together
we will tell our stories, together
and finally be willing to listen

we will fix this broken algebra
remember that we were created equal
and we will shine as radiating people
finally willing to glisten
from sea to shining sea

and no longer be drowning in it

so if you see me
let me hug you
and tell me what I can do
because I can’t change the world
but I can change myself

this embrace can’t erase history’s pillages
but this village it starts with two
maybe we can spark some truth
maybe some hearts can start to move

help me on my way to transformation
walk with me as I make strides and penances
so that I can honestly proclaim emancipation
from my pride and prejudice

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A New Way to Think About Car Washes

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I guess you could say she’s seen better days
a crack in the windshield is snaking its way through dirty glass
a couple of the tires are low, treading on journeys past
the check engine light is glowing, has been for a while and
she knows where we’re going, she’s on autopilot
I see you’ve been here before, what’s the mileage
whoa, she’s overdue
leave the keys and sign here, we’ll roll her through

I take my backpack and grab some empty clif bar wrappers off the passenger’s seat
take a final glance back as if my eye contact will comfort her through the poking and prodding
and make my way over to the waiting room
which is a few timeworn tables and benches under a red sun bleached awning
several other people are waiting for their refreshed rides
one is yawning 
a few are texting or instagramming, who can tell
there’s a unique but familiar smell
a cocktail of greasy engines, greasier sandwiches, and jamba juice
I find an empty bench next to a recliner that looks like it used to be a masseuse
there’s a faint argument about (tainted garbage? no) gained yardage between two guys on an old tv
I should pull out that book I’ve been meaning to read 
but I just kill time on my phone
a few handfuls of wasted minutes later I hear my name mispronounced 
they want to know
do I want the $50 air filter – nah, listen  
the fuel injector needs cleaning every 12k miles
but you said 20k last time so let’s risk it

they drain the used oil
and quench her thirst with golden honey from the new purified bottles 
six quarts of elixir to fix her aching joints
viscosity restored
time to pull her forward to the vacuums
those giant orange cylinders of grace
if that grill had lips i’m pretty sure i’d start to see a smile on her face
stale McDonalds fries removed
disburdened of dirt from the floor mats
tiny grains of unwanted souvenirs from the beach liberated from the seat seams
she seems redeemed

she turns a corner, moving tentatively
this next part is only gonna work if she makes it safely in the straight and narrow tracks
she can’t see her wheels and has to place faith in faded harrowed plaques
but with a quick jolt, rusty metal hands grab her axles from below
and she lets go into a baptism of power washers
and giant scrubbers oozing with soap
and hope
potholes forgiven
caked layers of mud from wrong turns on road trips and unexpected rain storms
washed away

she emerges from the watery cave
she beams
the sun glistening off her curves
angels in blue jump suits and gray caps
appear out of nowhere to wipe off any last spots
and polish the rims nice and shiny
they wave a red rag in circles
that means the revitalization is complete
covenants renewed
they hand me the keys
I hand over a few dollars, tithing to the sud gods 
and get in
break open the vanillaroma air freshener and hang it from the mirror 
and we hit the road again

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God Bless America Concert – July 7th in Seattle

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Beyond excited for this event! I’ll be performing “Nine Twelve” with Jennifer Thomas as well as a mashup of “Fighters” with a song called “Ascension” from her new album. Kimberly StarKey, whom I collaborated with on “Little Drummer Boy” (we have a follow up song in the works as well) will also be performing with Jennifer. We will all be backed by the amazing Ensign symphony orchestra and chorus, and this will all be happening at stunning Benaroya Hall in downtown Seattle.

Seriously a dream come true for me. I can’t wait to share the stage with these incredibly talented people in celebration of our freedom.

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Triangles (3 Sides to Every Story)

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to the left, to the right
the pendulum sways
pivoting under the weight of animosity
and when it swings our way
yay
we celebrate with our team

but I’m starting think it’s just camouflage
and the pendulum is actually just a facade
for a guillotine
and I wonder if it’s going to stop in time
or if we even want it to

are we really getting anywhere?
or is this an endless tug of war
so entrenched that we’d rather sit here forever and die in the mud
than go have dinner together

some people want guns
other people want guns banned
but neither of these things is going to stop the killing
so maybe the real question is why we want to shoot each other

some people want a wall
some people want open borders
but we’ve already put up walls
when was the last time you opened a border to a foreigner that didn’t already live in your worldview

some people believe only what they see
some people see only what they believe
are we trying to know something?
or are we trying to become something?

some people want choice
and some people want life
I think God is wondering why there are unwanted pregnancies in the first place
unwilling participators in creation
the most divine thing we could ever do as humans
and we’re like, nah

and he’s probably like
all this arguing over health care
the sicknesses I really want you to cure aren’t even covered by insurance
and the prescription has already been written
you just have to go pick it up

why do you want to feel like you’re a winner every 4 years
when you could win eternity
so worried about the length of the grass in a preseason baseball game
that you forgot about the World Series

when was the last time one of your messiahs
actually fulfilled your desires
when you gave them your vote
your faith

why do you paint yourselves into a ballot box when I gave you a sky
why are you sitting in gridlock when I gave you a runway
shouting at each other from two ends of a straight line
wondering why the other can’t see your point

it’s because life is not one-dimensional
and honestly
you were meant for much more meaningful geometry

like triangles

we can mill around on the bottom
preoccupied with all the problems
stupefied by the minutiae
turning back whenever we encounter a new angle
or we can turn the corner, upward to the angels
not only ascending
but coming closer together
pouring our collective inventory
onto a terrestrial table of truce
forming a blueprint for celestial glory
shaping truth from our sharp edges
and what we really find in the climb is the perspective
that there are three sides to every story

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