Hallelujah

Hallelujah, a man killed another in Your name

Hallelujah, I will send my son to kill another woman’s son in the name of the Father and for country

Hallelujah, a donkey and an elephant claim You as their mascot

Hallelujah, the poor in our city are starving, but You give us our daily bread

Hallelujah, we can make Your Word say whatever we want it to say

Hallelujah, You made our nation a mansion that shines on the hill 

Hallelujah, I’m divorcing my third spouse, but I defend the sanctity of marriage against the gays and lesbians for that is what I am called to do

Hallelujah, we defend the unborn from the hands of the wicked, but we tear them apart like wolves once they’re born

Hallelujah, You make women wash our feet with their hair and make them subject themselves to us to remain as the true heads of this world 

Hallelujah, my brothers and sisters in faith struggle as You continue to bless me when they should be more like me

Hallelujah, for whites who commit atrocities yet know not what they do for they are mentally ill, but all others of color who do wrong are terrorists

Hallelujah, You made this nation in Your image as You have made us in Your image

Hallelujah, You rejoice in seeing us attend all church services without missing a single one to prove our faithfulness to each other

Hallelujah, we do not do what You have asked us to do yet we are forgiven from our trespasses

Hallelujah, we have made You a mockery for our own glory

the rain won’t make a difference

It’s been a while since I’ve gone on a jog to clear my mind. Something within me stirred me to put on some shorts, a bright red shirt(so drivers passing me by could see me and not run me over), and some running shoes, and simply go and run. I even refilled my empty Smart Water bottle, and I added that Mio Energy drop that I might get some energy from that when I became to weary to continue running. What was I running for? What am I running towards? What am I running from? I told myself that it would be a short run because it appeared that it would begin to pour over me again if I took too long. As much as I have this overwhelming disdain for cliches, I was listening to music as I moved above the wet asphalt. The humidity is awful. I’ve been in Georgia for seven years now, and I can’t grow accustomed to the humid southern summers. Californian summers are one thing I do miss. Those, however, are miles behind me. I might fade west someday just to experience them.

I’m convinced that I had an encounter with God. I’m not talking about the Christian God. I’m talking about the God. The God that is bigger than the “relationship” Christians claim God is. The God that is bigger than the small Christian box. Not the small god that is so prevalent in the West.  God is much bigger than whichever label or song or whatever it is you try to box God in. To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, if God is real than this is what I believe to be Gospel, but if God is not real then none of this matters and will be forgotten in time. In my mind, I was full of crippling self-doubt on a lot of different subjects. It was/is raining inside of me. The rain drops were colliding with the sweat running down from the orifices on my body. I heard a disembodied voice through the rain drops; “The rain won’t make a difference unless you let it.” Honestly, it might have just been my sub-conscience remembering a similar line of dialogue within A Farewell to Arms by Hemingway. I don’t think so though. I would elaborate what that means to me, but it’s as when you explain a joke. It loses substance.

Among other things that I experience on my jog, I ran with a parable that was planted inside of me. It might be more of a short story that I will get around to typing. I’ve had difficulty writing lately to be honest. I tell myself that I am going to update this blog with some kind of post. I tell myself that I am going to write more (and better) poetry. I tell myself that I am going to get chapter 1 of the book I am writing done soon. I reiterate these things, but it wasn’t until the other day that I the words were able to flow from brain to my fingertips. I’ve got three poems that I’m working on. I shared one with my friend Nick because he’s one of the few that I feel comfortable sharing my poems with, and it inspired him to start a comic. He enjoys drawing, but he thinks he’s awful at it. I tell him otherwise. He tells me otherwise when I say that I think my poetry is awful. Inspiring him to start the comic series he’s doing altered my perception. A poem I wrote was able to stir something within him to begin a comic that he is story-boarding. I truly hope he finishes it. I’ll share this poem someday. It’s interesting though I believe it’ll be interpreted wrongly.

The other day someone I consider a bit of a mentor told me that I should not grow and become complacent. He also told me that I had to DO life. I realize that I haven’t been doing life. Worse, I am slowly becoming complacent. I walked out of his apartment with a lot to meditate on. Everything that was spoken has been on repeat this entire day like one of my favorite albums that I listen for days until I become obsessed with listening to a single different album for days as well. It’s a conversation that has shaken something within me as well. It’s something that there are no words for. It’s something that has to be experienced and felt. I’m not going to become more complacent. I will reverse this slowly building tragedy. I will do life as it was meant to be done. Life and love is meant to be relational not watched from afar in complacency.

As I briefly mentioned above, I thought of a great story that I could write. It’s original I believe. I began it during my Spring semester, but it’s difficult to write a book(let alone a single chapter) when you have homework and readings to do for every class. I haven’t written much now that I’m on break. I’ve lacked the words. I’ve been reading books. I’ve been attempting to write poetry. I’m trying to make good art. There might be this misconception that you can just sit down and write and have a book in no-time which might be true for some, but I find that it isn’t as easy as picking out my favorite jelly beans to eat and which are my least favorite to eat before I get to my favorites or discard because I think they’re disgusting. Writing is hard, but it’s beautiful. Writing has always been my catharsis.  I hope to get this book finished by the time the next presidential election is nigh. I won’t say what it’s about even though I’ve told a few people. It’s all still very hush-hush still. I also have another great idea to write about once I am done telling this story. It’s a satire. I think so far that it’s a brilliant idea.

I’ll try to update this blog while I attempt to get through all the material I want to write about.

Bands that get me thinking theologically and stuff that I recommend:
U2
Seahaven
Delta Spirit
mewithoutYou
Bob Dylan

Mansion On a Hill

you’re the so-called beloved bride
from the rising and falling of the sun
wine is the only thing your lips want to taste 
in your drunken state you’re throwing stones
from the patio of your mansion atop the hill
you’re shinning so brightly over everyone
the dirt and poor in spirit too underprivileged
to be anything close to resembling you
you are the one true king of the hill
you are the salt and the light to us
but you are only leaving us vacant 
you sing over us songs of self-glory
cold, pious, and self-righteous hymns
words that were meant to heal and build up
only leave us butchered at your feet
sit and be still comfortably in your mansion
as we are swept away by the flood

Summer Reading List

Well, I’ve been on my summer break for a while now. It’s nice to be out of school though this will probably be the only summer I have off because I do plan on taking summer courses starting next summer. This is the first summer that I actually have a summer reading list. When I was in middle school and high school, I had to choose a book from a list to read though I never read any of the books I was assigned to do. This is probably why I never got an A in any of my English classes (albeit I did get an A in English my Senior year of High School). I might have lied a little. I did read one book, and it was for my Junior year. I read a book called  Mystic River by Dennis Lehane. I bought it, and I read it, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Though, when it came time to take the exam on our chosen book, I scored lower than my friend who watched the movie the day or so before we took it. I was disappointed to say the least. I actually meant to make this post earlier, but I procrastinated typing this out. 

Summer Reading List: 

• Stardust by Neil Gaiman(read)
• Life of Pi by Yann Martel(read)
• A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway(read)
• The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky/Dostoyevsky(currently reading)
• Through Painted Deserts: Light, God, and the Open Road[Audio Book] by Donald Miller(currently listening to)
• Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
• Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche
• The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury
• Tortured for Christ by Richard Wurmbrand
• Confessions by Saint Augustine

This is what I have so far, and I will add on to my list if I finish these books sooner although The Brothers Karamazov is the lengthiest of them all at 700+ pages, and I’m only a third of the way through it. It’s an insightful book. It makes me want to become Orthodox. 

I used to post poems somewhat regularly, so I’ll post two poems I’ve written either later today or tomorrow in the afternoon. 

EDIT. 

If you have a Goodreads account, you should add me if you’re interested on what I rate these books. I love Goodreads because it helps me be accountable for what I’m reading. It’s a great thingymabob. 

http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/19786241-carlos-gomez

or you could just search for me through my email if the link above doesn’t work; carlos040594@gmail.com.

On Friday a Thief, On Sunday a King.

It’s Easter. Many are looking for eggs, and others are grateful for a risen King. A King who was and is and is yet to come was nailed on a cross many, many years ago. He disarmed death with his pure sacrifice.  You’ll see Facebook posts, Tweets, and Tumblr posts dedicated to this act of righteous selflessness from many Christians.  It’s a banner that almost everyone who calls themselves a “Christ-follower” flaunts.

It’s a shame. It’s a shame that Christians will celebrate this action proudly on the Easter Holiday? Is Christ’s death and resurrection not worthy to be mentioned outside of this religious holiday? You’ll hear it mentioned in a sermon or in a rebuke, but they’ll just skim over it. This act is reduced to almost nothing outside of Easter. Just like Christ’s birth during the Christmas holiday, they will celebrate it on a designated day, but it won’t be for another year that you will hear Christians proclaim the birth, or the death and resurrection of the Messiah.

In my opinion, Christ’s acts should be taken just as serious any other day as it is taken seriously on these days. Sometimes, I wonder what Jesus would say about these religious holidays. Yes, they bring the community together, but it’s dispersed just as quickly as it came together. His sacrifice should not be limited to being spoken and mentioned of on just another holiday by His body.

but whatever, I’m just throwing a stone into this ocean that causes but a tiny ripple.

From Russia with Love

she’ll make your head turn as she walks by. she’s tall and white as snow and young and lovely. you may think she’s made of plastic, but she’s real and soft to the touch. when she walks, she’s waltzes. and you’ll find yourself saying she waltzes with grace in her heart. she’s a refreshing summer breeze when she passes you by. you’ll watch her as she walks past you, and you’ll wish she was yours, or you’ll wish you were her. but don’t be misled, she isn’t vain and stuck up. you see, she’s lovely, and she knows it, but her heart is kind and she’ll stay and have a conversation with you no matter what you think of yourself or her because her heart is full of grace. her eyes are as blue as the ocean and deep inside they are full of secrets and life and love. if you’re anything like me, you’ll get lost in those deep blue eyes of hers.her eyes are the eight wonder of this wretched and deprived world. and like her skin, her hair is soft to the touch. and if you ever had the chance to run your hands through her hair, you’d think you’re running your hands through millions of soft silk strands. her lips are just right, and they taste like honey and milk. now you may think she’s a model, but she’s an half an inch for the ideal model. but it’s their loss, she’s a poem in herself, and the most beautiful sight you’ll ever see pass by. she’s the youngest of eight. seven older menacing Russian brothers. they’re a mob. and if she happens to bring you home, you’ll wish she was a single child because you’ll leave with tears in yours eyes. they are ruthless. now if you can make it past them and get invited to family reunions, i just hope you were smart enough to bring a pocket knife with you. you don’t have to take my advice, it’s not like i’m speaking from experience…and you might think that when she speaks she sounds wretched, and although her accent is THICK, take my word on it, it’s the cutest thickest accent that will ever grace your ears. her mood changes as often as the weather, and she paints her fingernails to fit her mood, and if she calls you hers then you’ll have the privilege to paint her toenails. but a girl whose mood is ever changing needs lots of nail polish, and you’ll find hundreds upon hundreds of nail polish in her bathroom from various colors and brands. she hangs with all the frat guys because she was raised around men and feels comfortable around them even though a lot of them are still little children, but believe me, your wrong if you think she’s loose in every sense of the word. she’s quite innocent. but none of us are truly innocent, but she’s pretty damn close to it. now i would like to say somethin’ stupid like “I love you,” but I’ll swallow those words, and I hope I don’t choke on them. so I’ll watch her so sadly, as I regret letting her slip out of my hands when I had the chance to make her mine, maybe. one of these days, i’ll stop blocking all my shots and take a chance. Maybe…someday…

My Top 10 Books of 2012

I’ve read plenty of books this year. Some good, some bad, some so bad that I forgot their names, but I’ve decided to make a list of the ten books that have meant the most this year to me.

By the way, this list is in no particular order.

• The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis

In this humorous and perceptive exchange between two devils, C. S. Lewis delves into moral questions about good vs. evil, temptation, repentance, and grace. Through this wonderful tale, the reader emerges with a better understanding of what it means to live a faithful life.

• The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

Bilbo Baggins is a hobbit who enjoys a comfortable, unambitious life, rarely traveling any farther than his pantry or cellar. But his contentment is disturbed when the wizard Gandalf and a company of dwarves arrive on his doorstep one day to whisk him away on an adventure. They have launched a plot to raid the treasure hoard guarded by Smaug the Magnificent, a large and very dangerous dragon. Bilbo reluctantly joins their quest, unaware that on his journey to the Lonely Mountain he will encounter both a magic ring and a frightening creature known as Gollum.

• Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis

The most popular of C. S. Lewis’ works of nonfiction, Mere Christianity has sold several million copies worldwide. It brings together Lewis’ legendary broadcast talks of the war years, talks in which he set out simply to “explain and defend the belief that has been common to nearly all Christians at all times.” Rejecting the boundaries that divide Christianity’s many denominations, Lewis finds a common ground on which all Christians can stand together, and provides an unequaled opportunity for believers and nonbelievers alike to hear a powerful, rational case for their faith. It is a collection of scintillating brilliance that remains strikingly fresh and confirms C. S. Lewis’ reputation as one of the leading writers and thinkers of our age.

• Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality by Donald Miller

Book Overview

“I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn’t resolve. I used to not like God because God didn’t resolve. But that was before any of this happened.” ―Donald Miller

In Donald Miller’s early years, he was vaguely familiar with a distant God. But when he came to know Jesus Christ, he pursued the Christian life with great zeal. Within a few years he had a successful ministry that ultimately left him feeling empty, burned out, and, once again, far away from God. In this intimate, soul-searching account, Miller describes his remarkable journey back to a culturally relevant, infinitely loving God.

For anyone wondering if the Christian faith is still relevant in a postmodern culture.

For anyone thirsting for a genuine encounter with a God who is real.

For anyone yearning for a renewed sense of passion in life.

Blue Like Jazz is a fresh and original perspective on life, love, and redemption.

___________

I also recommend watching the movie, Blue Like Jazz. I’m not a fan of “Christian” movies because they tend to be so watered down and just dumb(although they do manage to get a message across), but this movie isn’t like that. It’s not watered down. The language is not toned down. It’s pretty realistic when it comes to walking away from God, and it gets the message across very well. Basically, it’s not like most “Christian” movies.

___________

• Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

Book Overview

Guy Montag was a fireman whose job it was to start fires…

The system was simple. Everyone understood it. Books were for burning … along with the houses in which they were hidden.

Guy Montag enjoyed his job. He had been a fireman for ten years, and he had never questioned the pleasure of the midnight runs nor the joy of watching pages consumed by flames… never questioned anything until he met a seventeen-year-old girl who told him of a past when people were not afraid.

Then he met a professor who told him of a future in which people could think… and Guy Montag suddenly realized what he had to do

• Looking for Alaska by John Green

Book Overview

Miles “Pudge” Halter is abandoning his safe-okay, boring-life. Fascinated by the last words of famous people, Pudge leaves for boarding school to seek what a dying Rabelais called the “Great Perhaps.”
Pudge becomes encircled by friends whose lives are everything but safe and boring. Their nucleus is razor-sharp, sexy, and self-destructive Alaska, who has perfected the arts of pranking and evading school rules. Pudge falls impossibly in love. When tragedy strikes the close-knit group, it is only in coming face-to-face with death that Pudge discovers the value of living and loving unconditionally.

• A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Book Overview

Arthur Conan Doyle’s Study in Scarlet is the first published story involving the legendary Sherlock Holmes, arguably the world’s best-known detective, and the first narrative by Holmes’s Boswell, the unassuming Dr. Watson, a military surgeon lately returned from the Afghan War. Watson needs a flat-mate and a diversion. Holmes needs a foil. And thus a great literary collaboration begins. Watson and Holmes move to a now-famous address, 221B Baker Street, where Watson is introduced to Holmes’s eccentricities as well as his uncanny ability to deduce information about his fellow beings. Somewhat shaken by Holmes’s egotism, Watson is nonetheless dazzled by his seemingly magical ability to provide detailed information about a man glimpsed once under the streetlamp across the road. Then murder. Facing a deserted house, a twisted corpse with no wounds, a mysterious phrase drawn in blood on the wall, and the buffoons of Scotland Yard–Lestrade and Gregson–Holmes measures, observes, picks up a pinch of this and a pinch of that, and generally baffles his faithful Watson. Later, Holmes explains: “In solving a problem of this sort, the grand thing is to be able to reason backward…. There are few people who, if you told them a result, would be able to evolve from their own inner consciousness what the steps were which led up to that result.” Holmes is in that elite group.

• Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Overview

relates the experiences of a sailor who has returned from a long sea voyage. The Mariner stops a man who is on the way to a wedding ceremony and begins to narrate a story. The Wedding-Guest’s reaction turns from bemusement to impatience and fear to fascination as the Mariner’s story progresses

• The Lord of the Rings Trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Lord of the Rings tells of the great quest undertaken by Frodo and the Fellowship of the Ring: Gandalf the Wizard; the hobbits Merry, Pippin, and Sam; Gimli the Dwarf; Legolas the Elf; Boromir of Gondor; and a tall, mysterious stranger called Strider to destroy the One ring before it falls into the hands of Sauron.

• Street Boys by Lorenzo Carcaterra

Book Overview

It’s late September. The war in Europe is almost won. Italy is leaderless, Mussolini already arrested by anti-Fascists. The German army has evacuated the city of Naples. Adults, even entire families, have been marched off to work camps or simply sent off to their deaths. Now, the German army is moving toward Naples to finish the job. Their chilling instructions are: If the city can’t belong to Hitler, it will belong to no one.

No one but children. Children who have been orphaned or hidden by parents in a last, defiant gesture against the Nazis. Children, some as young as ten years old, armed with just a handful of guns, unexploded bombs, and their own ingenuity. Children who are determined to take on the advancing enemy and save the city—or die try

____________

This is my list of the ten books that have influenced me the most this year, so what’s yours?

a thrill of hope

I’m back! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am still alive. I’ve survived my first semester at college. Throughout this semester, I’ve written a handful of poems, and I’ve shared a couple on my blog here.

A while back, I pre-ordered Paper Route’s new album “The Peace of Wild Things,” and since it was the deluxe package best $50 I’ve ever spent for a band I also got a small handmade moleskin journal. I’ve written in it as often as I can. Although, I don’t always have it at my disposal when I have been struck with inspiration or an epiphany. I’ve decided to share a few of the poems that I’ve bled onto these empty pages because writing is my catharsis.

A haiku about college

an arm and a leg

that’s what the price of going

to college is, crap

Untitled Poem

and sometimes when i 

close my eyes 

i feel myself sinking like a stone

and the water fills 

my sinful lungs

it’s pulling me down under

some days, I’m resolute

in allowing myself to drown

then I think of you

and what I might mean to you

and I’ll fight for breath, for you

but,  I’m sorry that I

still

        can’t

                   stop

                               d

                                   r

                                         o

                                             w

                                                  n

                                                             i

                                                                              n

                                                                                                                              g

 

Untitled Poem 2

my heart has never

felt this divided 

I do, but 

I do not 

the human experience

is quite perplexing

does anyone know how to live?

love?

grow-up?

can someone, anyone tell me

how to end the civil war inside me?

can I be healed?

 but [mostly] can someone just teach me how to swim? because I am oh so tired of drowning

Untitled Poem 3

on a chilly winter afternoon

I made my way to a playground 

oh darling how I wished 

for you to be there as well

for I yearned to swing life away

with you

as I might hold your warm tender hand

as the sun was being slowly overshadowed

by the rising moon 

to see you alive

as you and i exhaled

ghosts of who we were

was a wish I sought after

but you were there

and I was here

and I could never

tell you directly

that I desired to see you alive

as we swung life away

on those abandoned swings

Untitled 4

the early autumn breeze

touches my skin gently

 

as leaves slowly change color

a desire for mine to change

grows stronger

my fruit is rotten

my roots have not reached the deep soil

and winter’s fury will reach them soon

and soon everything will be

as cold as the blood

coursing through my twisted veins

______________________________________

 

I’m hoping I don’t get too lazy before the year ends because I’d like to do a Top 10 of albums and/or books that mean a lot to me this year.

the greatest show

we are all sick and broken
we’re all burned and crippled
I pretended to be one of the greatest
but I’m only the greatest of the least
I put on the greatest show on earth
for those below my righteous feet
I sang along to every line of every song
and I reached to the sky to display
the glory of the saint I was
oh yes, I was the better man
then my eyes beheld
the weight of glory through
a bright staggering light
that tore me to shreds
dismantled like the Berlin Wall
I never knew that I could have been blinded and led astray
my sand castles were swallowed by the mighty sea
everything i claimed was stripped away
from these filthy wretched hands
I am not innocent
I am no saint
I am undeserving
My dry bones were buried under a grand show
oh are we all pretending to be saints?
when I was building empires in Your name,
I was busy digging my own grave
and decorating my own coffin instead
the blinding light pushed my darkness aside and left me naked
I was only chasing damned things
I sure as hell wasn’t the better man
I sure as hell am not the better man
As clear and as loud as thunder
Your voice replayed in my head
“Open your eyes, open your eyes,
open your eyes, open your eyes,
open your eyes, open your eyes,
open your eyes, open your eyes…”
Like an oasis rejuvenating a weary traveler in a desert
those words spoke fresh life into my barren bones
the fog dissipated
the veil pulled off my eyes
I stepped off this unstable dirt
and onto the solid rock
where I was struck by a tidal wave of grace
and it washed the blood off my hands
and though I was and am undeserving
I was called wanted
I was called beloved
and I died to live
forever

Joy and Dust

It’s been a while since I’ve posted something let alone a poem. The other day, I was sitting on the grass near the gazebo on campus, and this is the result, so since I thought they were worth sharing here they are…

Joy

I will hold this oh so dear
against the furnace in my chest
the short moment you gave me of your full attention,
and the joy she radiates…
a joy rising high above swollen sadness
is a reminder of the infinite attention
I have of a hope and love
that’s far from my clutches
yet so close as well
and I will hold this oh so dear
against the furnace in my chest

 

__________

Dust

Like grass, I will grow and be cut down
Like the flower, I will blossom, and
I will wither away
Will I waltz off a cliff
with the time I am given?
or will I compose a beautiful
sonata that will resonate after I am dust?
I will invest with love
all that I am
all that has been given
my finite heartbeats
will not beat in vain
before the final chord is stuck
I will have conducted
a beautiful noise
for your name