1 Corinthians 1:26-29 For you see your calling, brethren, that not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called. But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the mighty things; and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence.

From the Bible

She reached for the stars she couldn’t find. Greg’s absence left her far behind. A breaking point had come and gone. Many sleepless nights. Toss over, restless one. Christmas songs aren’t meek or mild. Stuck within her childhood ‘Home’ Autism’s scar alone. She’s so proud of her younger brother, Now on His hand an infinity band. She admires her sister, who finished her degree. Raised two children despite her grief. How strong were her parents, to endure autism’s shame? Burns mar and scar masking her pain. Few see her translucent wheelchair, she appears OK why should they care? Yet at her core, an infinity stone. Forged from pressure, formed alone.

I Will Use My Voice

My bodies autonomy isn’t your commodity.

Get your hands off my kids, data gained mind biz.

‘Yuck-in’ shoehorned your way in,

My ‘Vote’ didn’t count, your ‘promises’ you flout.

Disregarding the discord your ‘Marshall Plan’ will cause.

VCHEW’ing out the righteous, all to Carlyle’s gaping maw.

Fool’s gold you’ve sold for souls,

Gutters blood of innocence untold.

Fuhrer’s emblem around your neck,

or is that fury’s ‘placebo effect?’

‘Devils that are’ don’t speak for me!

You and your kind, the ‘powers that be.’

Lioness of Judea within me ROARS,

Tiptoe tulips, your own traps fall sore.

Like it or not, My Redeemer LIVES

Unto Him Alone, my praise I give!

Every knee WILL bow and tongue confess,

From Atheist to Muslim with all the rest.

Governors and Rulers will crawl to God’s Throne.

Each tribute offered unto Him Alone.

I Couldn’t Find Him

I dreamt last night of Gregory.

I was searching for him for I had questions.

But I couldn’t find him.

I called to him but he didn’t answer because he was gone.

I called to him but he was silent and I missed him.

I missed the strength of his presence,

the reliability of his knowledge,

the solidity of his person,

the steadiness of his gaze,

and the sound of his voice.

I called again, and slowly, in his own time, in his own way, far away, invisible, he answered.

Yes, Greg said. What is it? 

His voice answered.

Where have you gone? I asked. I need you.

Are you sure? He answered.

Yes, I said. I have questions for you. 

Greg you, the hope and the despair, 

the right and the wrong,

the light and the dark, 

the question and the answer. 

What do I do?

You carry on, Greg said.


You keep asking the questions. 

But, what is the answer? I asked.

I’ve shown you the answer:

The hope, the despair, the right, the wrong, the light, and the dark. 

All of it. The answer is My Love. 

In Memory of: Greggory

I’m so tired most of the time

Recent events of my grandmother succumbing to age-related illness and her just plain running herself into the ground has left me reeling. Were it not for my faith, kickboxing and talk therapy I’d go stark mad.

She has been the second mom of sorts in my life, walked through much that I struggled through in my teen years into my adulthood.

I love her, it’s hard to see your grandmother struggle to get out of a bathtub for 18 minutes while you try to hoist her up as she slides around.

I’ve helped bathe people before, that’s not the issue, it’s the instance on her part to see myself or those that honestly do want to help her as ‘out to get’ her if that makes sense.

She’s of the WW2 generation, stubborn as a mule and has cared for others her entire adult life.

She had a health breakdown over Easter weekend and was admitted to the ICU.

On that same weekend, her washer flooded her entire downstairs to her complex unit. This was the 2nd time it’s flooded the downstairs since Oct. of 2016. Needless to say mold in the carpet, walls and wood have been wreaking havoc on her breathing and no amount of air filters will help that because it’s in the padding of the carpet.

She has nick knacks from 25 years of living in her complex and never really ‘cleans out’ anything just moves junk around, forgets about it, and pays for storage units that house more of her junk.

I love her, she was with me when I was born, she was with me when I attempted to kill myself in 2005 when I had my bouts with borderline anorexia as a teenager and the 10 years that I abused my body via cutting.

I’m now 4 years healed thank God, and it’s a patience related thing. But, it’s so damn hard. Now instead of tears, it’s ugly sobbing for longer than needed. I suppose I do need the good cry of 3 hours.

I shan’t post this on Facebook as it’d upset her. Rant over.

Personal Play List

The first track is a mix of a recent Mercy Multiplied podcast description of Self Harm, with a fade out to a cover of Elliott Smith’s ‘See You Later.’ The Second track is Bear’s Den ‘Stubborn Beast.’

Third track is Elliott Smith’s ‘Between the Bars’ Orchestral. The fourth track is a live recording of Daughter’s ‘Smother.’  Fifth track is a cover of Tori Amos ‘Concertina’ by myself on the guitar.

Track six is Elliott Smith’s lesser known song ‘Melodic Noise.’

The seventh track is Bethel Music’s instrumental of ‘Seas of Crimson.’

The eighth and final track is Amanda Cook’s ‘The Voyage’ to close out the entire musical idea of this personal play list.

Personal Thoughts


I come to understand time in a sense as Emily Dickinson would have.

Dawning upon this realization, as old and yet new every sunrise.

I taste social waves more than ever.

I’m on the bandwidth of autism’s radio station.

I’m thirty years and two steps behind the nightfall.

The arising of originality.

You cannot look back to the plow of yesterday;

For heaven is ever onward, ever head-over-heels.

There isn’t anything offered by the days gone by.

For in a backbone of glass, there is a second glance;

And not being a suitable Ambassador of God.


It isn’t limitless sting…but the new domain I stomachache for.