Confusing the Tiger Wasp

I wrote this poem almost two years ago. Its been playing in my mind over and over this past week. 

When all our things
Have been broken
And none can seem
To put it right
We'll turn to someone else
For a remedy
For the sting in our eyes.
I'm broken in the telling
But I don't mind.
I'll meet you by
The water well
If its in the design.
I will wear yellow
If you will wear black.
We'll confuse the tiger wasp
We'll get her back.

Make A Living

via google

First of all, Switchfoot's new album is up on First Play on itunes... So that's pretty much all I've been listening to for the past 3 days... I can't believe I haven't really posted any of their music before, but I discovered them freshman year of highschool, and then I began blogging senior year, and I had been busy discovering indie music. 

Second, here something I read this morning, written by the lead singer (and my foremost father figure).

You want to know the meaning of life? This is your highest calling: You are called into the dynamic co-creation of the cosmos. This breath is your canvas and your brush. These are the raw materials for your art, for the life you are making. Nothing is off limits. Your backyard, your piano, your paintbrush, your conversation, Rwanda, New Orleans, Iraq, your marriage, your soul. You’re making a living with every step you take. So when you make a living, do not merely make money. Why settle for cash when joy is on the line? You feel a thrill when you dance, when you sing, when you finish your poem; even when you sweep the room you see order pressing back against the chaos. So when you create, never settle for making a living — at least not the way that the world might define that phrase. When you make a living, you are speaking a new world into existence. You are creating grace within the confines, you are co-signing God’s blank checks
- Jon Foreman

So, I'm off to make my living today! 

I Could Break Your Heart

Cold and icy
Over the phone
His soul is a blank stare
The wind can't blow

I could break your heart
I'd break it fast
But I won't cause I don't want to
I want your heart to last
for me

Selfish and cruel are you
I'd break you if I wanted to
Selfish and cruel are we
But I wouldn't cry tears
I didn't want you to see.

Funny thing,
How I don't care.
Who really holds the strings my dear?
My heart is an island
You think you have reached,
You said it right,
My walls can't be breached.

Its you whose really under a spell,
Because I don't care for you as well
As you think that I do,
I'm a cruel person too.
But I'm learning to love,
Which is more than I can say
For you, my dove.