\kə-ˈtas-trə-(ˌ)fē\

The sand washes away at the shore
Eating away at the earth
The water slowly pushes it forward
Like an army on the march it moves
Forward, onward, fearing nothing
Not a stone nor stick turn it back
The sand is a fearsome beast
It kills, it rips, it wrecks, and tears
The sky watches, painting the ocean blue
Clouds whispering, showing not
City lights make it a blur
The salt stirs itself into a frenzy
The sand, it crawl onward
Moving slowly, churning slowly
Victory set in sand, set in stone
Crushing, biting, breaking
And the watchman watched on

You Can't See What Happens Next

Jed was standing above the man slouched on the ground.  There was a bag over the man's head and his hands were tied up in tape.  Jed was smoking a cigarette, and as it burned low to the end he squatted down in front of the man and pushed the burning end against the man's arm.  The man jerked awake with a cry and his head turned this way and that as he tried to figure out what was happening.

"Where am I?" the man asked in a frightened voice.

"Hell," Jed replied flicking the cigarette stub away.

"Who are you?"

"The devil."

"What the fuck do you want?"

"What do you think we want Mr. Barns?"

"Oh shit...not you guys..." Barns began cursing under his breath.

"Yes.  Did you think we wouldn't catch up to you?"

"Doesn't matter, I'm not talking you assholes, I won't say a damn thing."

"I think we can fix that."  Jed pulled a razor blade from his pocket, but Barns couldn't see anything.

A Compilation of Hand Written Stuff I Wrote Mostly At Camp

SPIDERS
Climbing upward it makes its way
Crawling, spinning, making its art
This way and that, back and forth
Around in circles, making its mark

* * *

Untitled #1
Let's go on an adventure together.  I don't know where, but somewhere mysterious and magical.  We'll climb mountains and blaze trails through forests.  We'll swim in rivers and run underneath waterfalls.  The cool thing is, we'll never be lost because we'll be together, and when we're together, we have everything.

* * *

Still
I met a girl, a wonderful girl
She is unlike any other girl I have ever met
She's beautiful yes, but what draws me to her
Is her odd yet attractive mind
It is almost like mine
Random and silly, but
So very much different a the same time
Every time I look into those eyes
All I see is mystery
And it calls me, and I want to know more
She's  pretty wonderful girl
But a pretty wonderful mystery
And she broke my heart
That wonderful mysterious girl
And I can't stop loving her
Still. Still. Still.

* * *

Untitled #2
My hand brushes gently against her cheek.  Her eyes close and she inhales through her nose, savoring the soft touch.  The wind is blowing against us as we sit at the end of the dock on the pond.  The quiet summer night yields all of its romantic and magical charm.  The full moon is reflecting in the water and giving enough light for me to see the slight smile spreading on her face.  Her hand meets mine and we look deeply into each other's eyes, cherishing this beautiful moment.  We smile, then lean in.  Our lips lightly brush as we both hesitate slightly, but then it happens.  Closing the space.  Our first kiss.  It is every bit as wonderful as I imagined.  When we separate we are both smiling. Then we sit holding hands at the end of the dock, the moon smiling down at us.  All on that one beautiful summer night.

* * *

I Hate My Writing
Everything I write is crap
People tell me I'm a good writer
But I hate the words I write on these pages
All the words I see
Typed, written, from my mind
I despise with all the anger and hate I can muster
My own words seem to mock me
I find no real art in what I write
Some people's works I read and fine them beautiful
But not my own, not my own at all
Everything I write is crap

All my writing feel so dark and depressing
I often say that is what I'm best at
But all these words, they ruin and destroy
I feel them burning through my mind
If I am good at anything
It is hurting and causing pain
My writing, I feel, is an extension of this
And it's like I can't stop, so I'm afraid to write
It all burns in the end so why bother?
Why should I keep writing
When I feel such shame with each stroke
Or each press of a key?
My friend, she told me I'm not going to stop
And I almost hope she's right
Is what I write really any good?
If so why do I hate it, why do I end up wishing it away?

So I sit writing this stupid poem
Wondering if it will be my last piece of work
I need motivation I guess you could say
But my emotion that I feed on feel to be running dry
I am starting to feel numb, cold, dead
This vicious cycle of life, I try and put it to words
Is what I do worth it at all, is it really any good?

* * *

Careless
"This is probably a mistake," she says, but she is smiling.

"Probably," he sighs with a smirk.

Then they begin kissing.

* * *

This Is Me
Joe sighed as he set his cup of tea down on the table and stared at the unused napkin in front of him.  His leg shook under the table, ever so slightly vibrating the table and what was on it.  He picked up his tea, took a sip, and set it back down again.  He let out another sigh.

He had not written in days, nothing good at least.  It was all nonsense or a load of poorly places garbage.  He had never really thought of himself as a good writer, but he was usually at least satisfied with what he ended up with, or at least able to tolerate it.  But not lately.  Lately he had been writing stuff that only had a place in his wood-burning stove.

"Maybe I've just run out of juice," he said to himself.  "Maybe I just can't write anymore...it all seems the same after a while.  It all seems so generic and pointless."

His tea was now cold but he continued to sip at it anyway.  When it was gone he got up and went out to his porch to smoke.  He opened the box and pulled out a white cigarette, lit it, and sat down with a big sigh.  He sat thinking, smoking, thinking, smoking.  Each inhale brought his mind peace and clarity, the trail of gray smoke snaking its way up from the red, burning tip.

Then an idea hit him.  It was so stupid but it seemed like it might actually work.  He put out his half-smoked cigarette and rushed inside to his typewriter and began pressing the keys vigorously, typing out the story of a man who was having trouble writing.

That Moment Before

The waves splashed up against the rocks rhythmically.  The sun was still high in the sky, but it was getting late in the afternoon.  We sat on the concrete wall watching the ocean, silence between us.  I wanted to say it to her, but something was stopping me.  For some reason I couldn't say those three words that had always come so easily.  I looked at her and she smiled.  She grabbed my hat from my head and put it on her head.  I laughed.

"Oh yeah, you look cool," I said with a wink.  She laughed and nodded her head, then took the hat off and handed it back to me.  That one moment, that silly little moment, made me so happy.  I don't even know why, but it was amazing.

So it only made what came next a heck of a lot harder.

He Knows

When you and I talk I get a feeling of peace and happiness
Everything seems so right, nothing seems to go wrong
But I always end up upset and worried after talking with you
I guess it's because I'm scared of losing you
The thought of the future, the things that could change
It scares me, because I have no control, I have no power
I can't keep things exactly the same, neither can you
And not knowing what will happen, it's just sort of frightening
But worry is a sin, and you and I are always reminding each other
God is in control, we always say, and we both know it too
He has us in His hands, and girl I pray every day for you and I
I don't want this to end, never, I don't want to stop
No matter how hard life gets sometimes
No matter what the future will hold for us
So I want to sit back and enjoy us, here and now
Stop the worry about something I can't help and love today
Tomorrow will worry about itself
And my God is in control, and He knows, He knows

Talmidim

Who are we, servants, led by a King
We are warriors, we fight for our King
We are disciples, we are fearless
Immortal beings, victory set in stone
A hope beyond all hope is ours
We are the followers of Christ
We serve our God, the creator
With the promise of eternal life
Eternity in bliss, in heaven
We are the servants of the King
The one true King, who leads us
Through Him we have everything
With Christ as our head we overcome
Overcome all evil, overthrow the devil
We put on the full armor of God
We fight the good fight
Our victory set in stone
The devil shall not prevail
For our God whom we serve
He is with us, He fights for us
And through Him we have everything
We are servants, led by the King