Benediction
MAY THE ROAD RISE TO MEET YOUR FEET
MAY THE LORD GUARD/GUIDE BETWEEN YOU AND ME
MAY YOU LIVE IN THE CENTER OR PEACE AND
MAY YOU FIND YOUR DREAMS.
Class of ‘08: Peace.
All That Matters
I love my job. I hate my job.
Today was the senior last day. Not for classes, that was yesterday. Today was about camping out in the commons, playing XBOX 360, Playstation 2, and Nintendo wii, board games, and spoons, while eating bagels, pancakes and junk food, drinking coffee, orange juice and frappachinos, while signing yearbooks, dancing, building human pyramids and running in circles, before heading over to the park to play catch, toss the football, play basketball, fly kites, play more XBOX (et al), and challenge people to run through the inflatable gauntlet or jump in the rubber jumpy castle, or lounge around half awake, or play cards, or whatever the hell else you want because you’ve fought for 12-13 hard years of public education and you deserve every minute of these moments with your compatriots. And be damn sure there is free food.
I took the whole day off. I sat with my seniors, ran through the gauntlet, played football, blasted my music, signed yearbooks, and all the rest.
Yesterday was a preview of today: my room filled with plasma screen tvs and gaming consoles, boxes of pizza and soda, and a “screw the man; we survived” mentality. Today was even better (possibly because I didn’t have to pay for anything).
This is amidst the drama: the utter and inexplicable bullshit that public education has become. When good intentioned people pave that wide path to hell. Where the author(s) of Psalm 73 looks down and cringes. Where the undeserving are being rewarded. Where cynicism, anger, hatred, double dealings, and outright lying of the few, begins to take center stage of the achievements of the many.
Thus my attitude for today has been “fuck y’all: I will rejoice in my children.” A part of me is pretty sure this is an accurate, if not vulgar, representation of God’s stance towards certain human endeavors. Madness will reign in some quadrants, and He is aware, and He will in fact deal with that issue, but He will not let that deter Him from loving on, rewarding, and basking with delight in the correct actions of His children. The rain may fall on the just and the unjust, but the righteous shall not be forsaken or left in need of bread, not for very long any way.
They’re mine and I’m proud.
I hate my job. I love my job.
Waiting
Song as it stands right now:
——————————————
Am I waiting on the wrong thing?
Should I even raise my hand this time
At this desk of life?
For they might notice me, or call on me
And that’s all I don’t need: all eyes on me.
Or should I stand without thinking
Think without guessing, or
Guess all the answers are C
Though it all seems to be weighed against me?
And as the deer pants for water, but find it’s all run dry
Should I raise my head to the clouds and scream rain from the sky?
Or should I pray without hoping, hope without waiting
Wait with no pressure on me to be more than an oh so thirsty me?
(Well I) Lost hope, yet hope remains with me:
She seems to haunt my every empty stream.
She tells me the answers will fall like rain
And it’ll all make sense one day (maybe)
But when the mountains haven’t moved
Then it’s all assumed that they’re waiting on me
As if my words will be that last straw which brings Atlas to his knees.
Is my breath like butterflies who with their wings
Could send storm clouds to our lives when they take flight?
But what’s hope when ghosts remain with me
And I’m standing on this bank and can see everything?
Should I throw it up again, should I cast it on the wind
Or bend to the silence?
Am I disconnected, my words arrested and falling down
Before they ever reach the heavens, not to mention the clouds
that seem full to me, but this ground beneath my feet is mocking me
It says ask and receive as if it were all that easy.
Fuck hope, though hope remains by me.
she seems to masquerade as my enemy
But she calmly grabs my hand, and she stands me up again
So at least I’m on my feet while I’m waiting
~MEH
Musikal Scetches . . .
(Yes, I know. I teach Engrish . . .)
I’d offer you my hand, but you probably wouldn’t take it,
But why shake on a vow, when I’m sure you will break it . . .
Take two and call me in the morning. (or)
Take two and we’ll call it in the morning (or)
Take two and call it in the mourning (or)
Take two and I’ll call it in the mourning.
Let’s see where this song goes.
Sign Of Life (old Song)
You put your hands over my eyes
And I walked right into the surprise
Of an empty room, that was
more than cruel and less than kind
And while you pulled the wool over my eyes
I should have seen the seams of your disguise
Cause I know the signs
And I’m looking for a sign of life:
Something to say this past of mine was genuine
In the morning a red sky cries a warning
That a sailor should know –
How could I have missed the signs so?
On your seas I was tossed
As your heart blew across and over me
The coldest wind and I was lost
You would have let me drown
When I was failing around
Well I can tread for so long
But how I prayed for a calm
And you say a rescue doesn’t make a good song
So I’m looking for a sign of life -
Oh please could you throw me a line
Or at least a lie?
And I’m looking for a sign of life.
I see that branch in your hand:
Don’t you understand
I’m going under again?
Well you pulled a veil over my eyes
And I thought we were walking on water this whole time
But now I know why my feet are dry.
~ MEH