Take me to Church`

Do you ever get those insufferable ear worms? You know what I'm talking about. When you have one line (or a couple of lines) of a song stuck on repeat inside your head? Well I get them.....a lot. Just ask one of my friends, they'll tell you all about them. They can be really annoying at times, just drowning on, forever and ever, the same words redundantly rampaging through my mind. I can't ever seem to escape them till some new song comes on to trigger a new ear worm. In the past few days I have had one particular ear worm. It is the hit song "Take me to Church" by Hozier. If you do not know this song, then that's okay, just know that it is pretty sacrilegious in nature. The particular lines of the song that are currently stuck in my head is the chorus, which reads like this....

Take me to Church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins
and you will sharpen your knife
offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life.

The reason that I bring this up at all in the first place is because this is a problem that the Church faces today, particularly, but not limited to, Europe/western culture in general. The Gospel message is supposed to be one that gives life to the lifeless and healing to the broken. Instead, people view the church's message as poison and death. We're supposed to be life givers, but we are viewed as the MOD squad. I already, in my young life, have had too many stories of the failings of the church driving people away. In particular, pastor's kids. There is such a high standard set upon a pastor and his family that 9 times out of 10, the child of a pastor ends up acting out in extreme ways, and in many cases, falling away from the Church entirely given time.

Just some thoughts about a song. What do you guys think?

Some Poems I wrote

Hey guys, over the past week or so I've written some poems that I'd like to share with you all. I would absolutely love to hear what you think. If you get the meaning from them, then that's great. If you are confused at all, let me know. I'd be more than happy to share my thoughts about why I wrote them and what they are about. Enjoy friends.

P.S. "Coffee" is kind of long.

Ice

white. All is white.
There is no sound

hushed silence surrounds

my covered ears

there’s no one around me

only crystalline trees

give me any sort of fraternity

The snow falls

drifting, like a man stranded at sea

letting the wind take him e’re it goes

but sooner or later, falling, falling, falling

into nothingness once more

each flake different

yet in the end no difference could be made

A path lies before me

trees overhanging

my coat is wrapping me in warmth

my boots are dragging through the unmarked snow

the flakes cling to me, like frozen memories

The trees themselves are reminiscent of the mind

forever encased in ice

never to look different

the sap within, solidified, unchanging

so too are memories

forever enveloped by ice

to preserve them

to keep them always visible

to keep them forever solidified, unchanged

Freezing the mind, solid

while all around, there is naught but white

a hushed silence surrounds

There are none around me

I stand, frozen, with statues of ice as fraternity

Coffee

Let me paint you a picture

you’re in a small coffee shop

the sounds of the hiss and pop

of the air pot topping off

with fresh, smooth, coffee

the murmur of different conversations surrounds you

you hear about a new born baby

of a woman who’s thinking maybe,

she has made a mistake with the man she chose after all

you hear plans of hitting up the mall,

you see people taking instagram pictures of pumpkin lattes and the beautiful fall weather

The barisita behind the counter has a man bun

messily tied up behind his head to keep it out of his face

his hipster beard is reminiscent of the lumbersexual memes you see on Facebook

but his coffee is second to none

Starbucks has nothing on this small town coffee shop

that the barista started with his own time, energy,and resources

He brings me a steaming hot cup

the brown liquid inside still has a few air bubbles

from the strong flow of the air pot

which was freshly filled but minutes ago

little do I know,

that I am that cup

when he was creating His brew,

He was actually creating me anew

My soul has a hard case

it is burnt, it is charred

it is beyond recognition from what it once was

A mockery of what I used to be

My experiences have hardened me

They were the ones that burned me

My mistakes, my mis-ques, my failings.

It all adds up to a dark brown shell,

with seemingly nothing left to give

The Barista grinds me up, breaking apart my shell, taking away my very essence

I know it. My time has come

This is the end

Everything I've done, everything I've said

has led me to where I am today

useless and broken

no words left to be spoken

never to be woken again

from this breaking point in which I sit.

I am nothing but a fine powder now.

He puts me in whitewashed walls,

clearly to be discarded and forgotten, once and for all

I can not reform this soul of mine

it is beyond repair, what could I do?

mend every singular grain with glue?

try to knit back every sinew?

I would if only I knew

how.

But alas I do not

so this existence in my white tomb shall be all that I am

broken, unrecognizable, even from the wretch that I was before.

At least with my hard shell I could bounce off people, hurting them in the wreckage that is my life

but now?

Now I am a soft, fine powder. broken. useless. unmade.

Now scalding water burns me

pours over me

drowns me

I cannot breath

The heat is too much

I have no crutch to stand on

not even my broken soul will remain

it will disappear

washed away by the flood of this scalding water,

ripping all that I am away from me

Pulling my spirit with it, leaving behind the broken shell of my soul

But wait, what is this?

Is this purifying me?

Pulling away all the hate and scorn that I held

when the scorching water came, my spirit swelled

and was pulled forth from my broken shell

which wasn't my essence, but rather my walls

that I put between who I was and who I really am

and my spirit swam in the dark, rich water that dripped down

into a cup, one that overflows, it seems

constantly with the combination of water and spirit

and I am finally made useful once more

I thought I was broken, but I have been made whole

melded with the water that was heated with the coals

of loving mercy

This drink, yes, is bitter, but then again, thus is life

it is filled with struggle and strife, that strangles and stymies

but it is also filled with soothing water

it refreshes, it is joyous

it bubbles and pops with love and kindness and hope

Thus is my cup

Bitter yet refreshing

A beautiful combination

an invigorating brew

Made by a barista

in a small coffee shop

the hissing and the mouse-like murmur of people in the background