Monthly Archives: April 2012

Choosing Love

How bright the spring morning shined
Clearing the dark dreams from my mind
Washing the sleeper’s crust from my eyes
Looking deep into the mirror for an ally

Solutions in the balance thumbs confused
One over the other leaves two bruised
Eventually time will betray my masquerade
And my fear is both will fade away

© 2012 Michael Yost 4/30

The Stigma of Doodling

The Stigma of Doodling.


Narrow roads are not always straight. 
Cross roads have promising names
Reaching a tunnel going into the dark
Up against the wall holding back blame

Other people always have an answer
To the questions I’ve never asked
Now seeing light from the other side
I can see which ones are wearing masks

© 2012 Michael Yost 4/27


I never had to compete
Against closed doors and mirrors
Once you had my heart in tow
I could see you more clearer

Nightmares flood my naked mind
Down in the hole sides like glass
Reflecting her face not mine
Her narcissistic ways crashed

© 2012 Michael Yost 4/24

Recreating Vincent Van Gogh

Recreating Vincent Van Gogh.

Stones Weathered Smooth

Stones weathered smooth by water and sand
One slips away and falls from your hand
Trying again it slips away from your clasp
Like my bloody heart that’s hard to grasp

The blood from my last piercing’s coat my heart
Watch your fingers I’ll lock tight the gate to start
Your first time was free, now the key you must find
Throwing it into my whirlpool you dive in blind

The end of the whirlpool you fall into bed
Picking up your pen to write what’s in your head
You lay down the pen and yourself back to sleep
Looking for stones weathered smooth as you dream deep

© 2012 Michael Yost 4/15

Gaining insight in a parking lot.

Broken Believers

I was watching the crew painting stripes in a parking lot. They were methodical and aware, I suppose. I suppose I wondered how they do what they do. I’ve been curious to understand exactly how they can get such straight  lines. Perhaps you have seen them. They are as straight as you can get.

As I watched them work, there was an instructive moment. They brought out a “chalk line” and measured out 15 to 20 feet. They snapped the line which was perfectly straight. All of a sudden there was a wonderfully perfect line of chalk. The painters would use this line as they painted the yellow stripe.

As I watched, I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit. He is in a habit of using such things. I considered everything I saw. The chalk, and the line gave me a sense of this present age. In a sense…

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