LamentationsVideo Poems

Time Fries

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when you’re leaving a restaurant
don’t look back
there’s a busboy trying to make it look like you were never there
wiping away the conversation
disinfecting the laughter
stacking the stories into scrapheaps
to feed the trash compactor

I guess that’s why we etch our names in unsuspecting trees
or burden boulders with bad graffiti
or try as we might to resist fresh concrete
those cones and yellow tape are no barrier
to do something that’s not gonna be gone tomorrow

time only stands still in pictures
every pixel a broken promise
that it’s gonna be like this forever

we rub our thumbs slowly over them
boost the highlights, tame the shadows
pining for a light that we could shine in
where we’re not the same as our shadows

free from the heft of those pesky silhouettes
and lying likenesses
flying like we’re in
one of those light tunnels in sci-fi movies
perusing the beautiful confusing colors
like a child lost at a carnival
a story of stardust
trying to find the plot of these particles

they say if you travel near the speed of light for 10 years
when you come back
your friends will be 20 years older
so I guess you saved a decade
but you missed out on a lot of barbecues

24 hours in a day
I’d be okay with about 42
is it because I have so much more to do
or do I just want 18 hours more than you

a stitch in time makes a quilt
I just can’t seem to keep warm
under this patchwork continuum
purple hearts and black chrysanthemums
masterfully crocheted within the seams of dreams
but who’s pedaling this sewing machine anyway

maybe Einstein was right
time just keeps everything from happening at once
why are humans the only ones keeping track of it
like what if the sun dialed and nobody answered it
or the hours escaped from the glass and shattered it
what if we turned our backs to the future
and saved the plutonium for another day

father time is fleeing again
leaving me an orphan
the short hand is creeping north again
I’m just trying to keep awake
so worried
I don’t know if these are tears or fears
I just know it’s blurry
still, as I struggle to smuggle starlight into keepsakes
I can’t seem to shake the feeling
that we won the sweepstakes

I once read a novella about time eaters
thousands of little carnivorous creatures
that feast on the past
as soon as we leave now behind
perpetually hungry for our leftovers
but i’d rather feed them shards of metal from the grind
than cheesecake

so it’s fine
go ahead and set the new silverware
get the chairs properly prepared for the next pair of jeans
my story doesn’t end there
and it started long before the doors opened to your eatery
but thanks for the scenery
and the french fries

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Social CommentaryVideo Poems

A Voice for the Voiceless

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mommy, I have question
if a life is over when a heart stops beating
why does it not begin when it starts I thought being
would be enough
I know it’s been rough
I’m not trying to be rude, look
you have every right to your body
but I am not your body
I am in it
thank you for the hospitality
and the shelter
I know you’ve felt the sickness
it’s a nauseating sacrifice for my existence
and I don’t take it lightly
I’m forever indebted for your protection
I love sharing the resplendence of conception with you
and maybe I wasn’t what you were expecting
but we’re already connected
not only through this placenta
and this magnificent magenta sea of intestines
but through these perpetual fragments of ancestors and would-be descendants
you lost a period and can now write the most splendid endless sentence
don’t write my eulogy

even if you can’t give me a life
you can still give me life
what a gift
you’re my only hope…
is that a piano?
you know, I can hear music
I love it when you sing
I can tell when it’s light I can feel it when it rains
I can tell when it’s night, and I can feel pain

don’t believe them
they’ll tell you that it’s okay to kill unwanted people
and that killing millions of us every year is not genocide
but they shutter at the holocaust and say they disdain slavery
am I 3/5ths of a human? or less?
I’m sorry, but that ultrasound is not an illusion
it’s my flesh
it’s like an inner-selfie
and wouldn’t you rather take a million more
than take my future?

don’t believe them
they’ll promise “empowerment”
by rejecting the greatest power that
you could ever possibly have

they’ll tell you to forget
that every monument was once a blueprint
including you

don’t believe them
they’ll turn me from a person into a burden
and determine that I’m not worthy of birth and
assert that you shouldn’t see me through
I’m right here at the border
I’m a dreamer too

I don’t even want them to take away your choice
I just want you to hear my voice

I might be defenseless
but I am not invisible
and this attachment is much more than umbilical
I am not a box to be checked
I am not a wasted expenditure of breath
and I am definitely not meant to be poisoned or vacuumed or forcepped to death
I am not a mistake, I’m a miracle
what a beautiful thing to be a part of
I know it might be hard
but for me
this decision could be the last one
and just like you
I’m not here to have a perfect life
I’m just here to have one

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PoetryVideo Poems

Pride & Prejudice (My Privilege) feat. The Rogue Pianist

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my silence is a luxury
so here, let me break it
take a minute and tell you about my privilege
I was privileged to grow up without a mom
because when she was 12 she was privileged to watch her mom drown
PTSD’s gift to me was fetal alcohol syndrome
followed by leaving without even calling syndrome
so I could blame water for my motherlessness
forsake the ocean, never ride a wave
berate rivers, never surrender my gaze
to a waterfall
never run through a sprinkler
hate my kitchen faucet
become a spigot bigot
and never drink from it again
but when I shower every morning
there isn’t a single drop of oppression in it
maybe that’s the lesson in it

I spent years of my life on the playground shooting baskets
and never once worried about who’s shooting back, and
no one ever asked me what size my Jordans were
while clenching their fists
and no one ever rolled through my neighborhood
to apprehend me and frisk
no one ever threatened me with a lynching
I never had to risk my life
to get groceries
my baggage always made it through customs

in every chapter of my life story
my sentences always matched my crimes

I walk into Barnes and Noble
and I feel like falling to the floor and crying
because despite trying
I can never read about every iniquity
or abolish every evil that has ever happened to
every people in world history

you could fill a stadium of pages with the heinousness done by one group of humans to another
and we haven’t even been here that long
aliens are like what the heck is going on
on that pale blue dot over in sector four
why can’t they respect each other more

genocide, caste systems, slavery, holocausts
the loftiness of haughtiness
all because somebody wants to feel superior
if someone else is at the bottom of the food chain
we’ll always have something to eat
but these are empty calories
fraudulent food fraught with saturated fat
rotting in the bowels of self esteem
and fabricated facts
no matter how it might be disguised
racism is just pride personified
and we keep buying into the lie
looking for the shortest path between poverty and prospering
as the jim crow flies

America hasn’t been so beautiful
for everyone under these spacious skies
oh, God shed his grace
but we didn’t do so good with the brotherhood
freedom rang and we dismissed the call
too busy crushing candy
to deal with the real clash of clans
just going with status quo
going with status quo
going with status quo
that we know like the back of our hands
no one buys a box of crayons labeled “64 same colors”
but we keep trying to paint the sky with homogenized hues
and compromised views

I’ve never even seen a plantation
but I did see Boyz in the Hood
and I still have 100 miles of NWA cassette tape running through the gears of my consciousness
looking back
I can sort of see how murder, aggression, and misogyny
could further nurture impressions and ideologies
a confession –
I wanted to be black for the coolness
I didn’t know much about the past and the cruelness
I did hate Michael Jordan, but not because of his skin color
but because of his rival jersey color
and because he could fly
and I would never experience the air up there
like that free throw line was a launch pad into heaven
I loved Isiah Thomas because he was on my team
I cried when they wouldn’t let me be #11

but maybe there’s more to black people than gangsta rap and basketball
maybe there’s more to white people than dogs and yoga
maybe there’s no such thing as black people or white people
and this is all a ruse
maybe if we quit sitting at separate lunch tables
we could share some food for thought and a soda

if these skeletons stay in the closet
they will always haunt us
no governmental policy can fix ignorance
this is on us
you can’t legislate love
or enforce empathy
and enmity is definitely not the remedy
making America hate
is not the way to make America great
I fear for America’s fate
if we can’t escape the penitentiaries of our vain imaginations
decades and centuries of
decadence and censuring
inequity and injustice
this is now
we stand here face to face
and either it just is
or it’s just us
this is how we coexist
one open hand of humility
will transcend the futility of a thousand closed fists
this is vowing to dispose of these myths
and close these rifts

instead of seeking privilege
the best we can be is a privilege to someone that knows hatred
the most perfect person who ever lived was the least privileged
and the most hated
and he only wanted to be a privilege
to those that hated
so I guess that’s how we know we’ve made it
it turns out this whole thing is complicated
there are no silver bullets
but let me be a silver lining
I can’t walk in your shoes
but I can wash your feet
I think we can all agree
that we’ve stepped in some… awful things

but these crooked ways will be made straight
these valleys will be exalted
these mountains will fall and we will all see
the glory together
we will tell our stories, together
and finally be willing to listen

we will fix this broken algebra
remember that we were created equal
and we will shine as radiating people
finally willing to glisten
from sea to shining sea

and no longer be drowning in it

so if you see me
let me hug you
and tell me what I can do
because I can’t change the world
but I can change myself

this embrace can’t erase history’s pillages
but this village it starts with two
maybe we can spark some truth
maybe some hearts can start to move

help me on my way to transformation
walk with me as I make strides and penances
so that I can honestly proclaim emancipation
from my pride and prejudice

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Behind the ScenesVideo Poems

The Making of “I Am Not Shaken”

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With my latest video poem “I Am Not Shaken” about to be released Monday (Sept. 10th), I just wanted to share some background on what goes into creating something like this.

The poem itself was written over a period of a few months and finished back in March. After a couple more months of working on the music with Kimberly StarKey a.k.a. The Rogue Pianist, then recording and mixing, we were finally ready to start planning the video.

Continue reading…

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BlogSocial Commentary

Do Believers Need to Prove that God Exists?

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I recently read a blog post that started off like this:

God could very well exist. However, the burden of proof is on the believers to produce and provide evidence of her presence.

Is it?

Do believers really need to prove that God exists?

Faith, by it’s very definition, is a confidence or belief in something unseen. So it seems ignorant at best or disingenuous at worst to ask someone to prove something they have faith in. In fact, faith is the key element of the entire gospel, so how does it make any sense at all to ask a believer for proof?

Perhaps a better question is why God would make it this way and not show his face in the sky every morning at 9:00am PST as “proof” of his existence.

Skepticism is easy. It requires no action. Faith demands a lot more effort. More strength, more courage, more maturation, more devotion, more trust. More of all the qualities we want more of as humans. So maybe God made it that way on purpose – to give us purpose. Because you know what only believes in what they already know?

A robot.

I’m thankful to not be reduced to a state of a zero or a one. I’m thankful for infinite possibility. Thankful for the opportunity to learn how to see things that aren’t right in front of my face. For the conviction that moves me to do things I might not otherwise do. To become what I might not otherwise become.

I may find bits and pieces of what I’m searching for in my worldly pursuits, but I’m always left wanting more. It’s only through faith that I ever feel whole. Such it was with the woman who so faithfully touched the border of Jesus’s garment after 12 years of trying to find a cure for her disease from other physicians. His simple response after feeling a bit of power drained from him and figuring out what had happened: “thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.”

My faith isn’t perfect. I’ve prayed for more evidence and not received it. I’ve been discouraged and angry when things didn’t happen for me that I felt I deserved. I have a lot more to figure out. But I’ve learned to see doubts as opportunities for growth instead of catalysts for atheism. I’ve learned to embrace not knowing everything, because this life would be really boring if I did.

And I’ve learned to feel and comprehend the evidence that he does provide through His spirit, which He has promised to everyone that desires it. He has not left us alone. Again, a skeptic would say “prove it”. But I wouldn’t ask someone to prove that they’ve felt love for their child or spouse or grandparent. Just because you can’t put something on a scale or measure it with a ruler doesn’t mean it’s not real.

I don’t even know what a proof of God’s existence would look like. He sent his son as proof, who performed physical miracles and provided exactly we all yearn for – eternal truth and knowledge of who we really are – and was disbelieved, mocked, and crucified.

Would God’s face in the sky be proof? Or would it be explained away? I’ll take the blank canvas of a boundless blue sky. He believes in us much more than we believe in Him, and He knows the best way for us to reach our boundless potential is through faith.

So, no, it’s not my job to prove that God exists. It’s my job to prove myself.

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Live Performance

Seattle Performance Recap

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TLDR: we got a standing ovation for our performance of Nine Twelve and it was an overwhelmingly cool moment.

It took a long time for me to get to that stage. A lot of failed attempts at finding my voice that I guess weren’t really failures but rather steps I had to take to get to this point of the journey.

Despite it being the largest crowd that I’ve performed for, I wasn’t nervous. Faith and fear can’t be present in the same heart at the same time so I tried to choose faith. But really I just felt like that was where I was supposed to be on that night, in a beautiful symphony hall sharing a message I felt inspired and passionate about, and just having an amazing experience with the audience, the Ensign Symphony & Chorus, and Jennifer Thomas.

This won’t be the last such moment, but it will be treasured as a first.

I also performed a mashup of my poem “Fighters” with Jennifer’s new song “Ascension”. We’re planning to release some videos of the concert soon.

And took some time to explore Seattle and the Olympic Peninsula:

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PoetryVideo Poems

A New Way to Think About Car Washes

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I guess you could say she’s seen better days
a crack in the windshield is snaking its way through dirty glass
a couple of the tires are low, treading on journeys past
the check engine light is glowing, has been for a while and
she knows where we’re going, she’s on autopilot
I see you’ve been here before, what’s the mileage
whoa, she’s overdue
leave the keys and sign here, we’ll roll her through

I take my backpack and grab some empty clif bar wrappers off the passenger’s seat
take a final glance back as if my eye contact will comfort her through the poking and prodding
and make my way over to the waiting room
which is a few timeworn tables and benches under a red sun bleached awning
several other people are waiting for their refreshed rides
one is yawning 
a few are texting or instagramming, who can tell
there’s a unique but familiar smell
a cocktail of greasy engines, greasier sandwiches, and jamba juice
I find an empty bench next to a recliner that looks like it used to be a masseuse
there’s a faint argument about (tainted garbage? no) gained yardage between two guys on an old tv
I should pull out that book I’ve been meaning to read 
but I just kill time on my phone
a few handfuls of wasted minutes later I hear my name mispronounced 
they want to know
do I want the $50 air filter – nah, listen  
the fuel injector needs cleaning every 12k miles
but you said 20k last time so let’s risk it

they drain the used oil
and quench her thirst with golden honey from the new purified bottles 
six quarts of elixir to fix her aching joints
viscosity restored
time to pull her forward to the vacuums
those giant orange cylinders of grace
if that grill had lips i’m pretty sure i’d start to see a smile on her face
stale McDonalds fries removed
disburdened of dirt from the floor mats
tiny grains of unwanted souvenirs from the beach liberated from the seat seams
she seems redeemed

she turns a corner, moving tentatively
this next part is only gonna work if she makes it safely in the straight and narrow tracks
she can’t see her wheels and has to place faith in faded harrowed plaques
but with a quick jolt, rusty metal hands grab her axles from below
and she lets go into a baptism of power washers
and giant scrubbers oozing with soap
and hope
potholes forgiven
caked layers of mud from wrong turns on road trips and unexpected rain storms
washed away

she emerges from the watery cave
she beams
the sun glistening off her curves
angels in blue jump suits and gray caps
appear out of nowhere to wipe off any last spots
and polish the rims nice and shiny
they wave a red rag in circles
that means the revitalization is complete
covenants renewed
they hand me the keys
I hand over a few dollars, tithing to the sud gods 
and get in
break open the vanillaroma air freshener and hang it from the mirror 
and we hit the road again

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Live PerformancePoetry

God Bless America Concert – July 7th in Seattle

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Click here for tickets

Beyond excited for this event! I’ll be performing “Nine Twelve” with Jennifer Thomas as well as a mashup of “Fighters” with a song called “Ascension” from her new album. Kimberly StarKey, whom I collaborated with on “Little Drummer Boy” (we have a follow up song in the works as well) will also be performing with Jennifer. We will all be backed by the amazing Ensign symphony orchestra and chorus, and this will all be happening at stunning Benaroya Hall in downtown Seattle.

Seriously a dream come true for me. I can’t wait to share the stage with these incredibly talented people in celebration of our freedom.

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MoviesSocial Commentary

Cobra Kai – It hurts me to say this, but…

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The Karate Kid is my favorite movie of all time. Last year I spent two months recreating scenes at their original locations around Los Angeles for a video poem ode to what the movie meant to me. I still have the original theatrical poster. I still have many of copies of VHS tapes and DVDs, as well as soundtrack CDs and cassette tapes. You won’t find a bigger fan.

I’m sure as with many others, when news broke of a new television series that would continue the saga I was both intrigued and skeptical. But I knew I would check it out. I really wanted to like it.

The first episode was wrought with nostalgia, from the opening shot of tournament-winning crane kick to the quote dropping and flashbacks. And of course as the main draw it features the original actors playing the iconic roles of Daniel Larusso and Johnny Lawrence. Just writing those names still gives me goosebumps.

As I watched the first few episodes though, it wasn’t long before the feeling of nostalgia was overcome by disappointment. Not because of the plot, or the acting, or the production quality, but because of the writing. The show is produced by YouTube Red, which, similar to Netflix and other streaming TV services, does not have to comply with any FCC regulations. I shouldn’t have been surprised then, that the dialogue was written with all of the boorishness of unrestrained adolescents swearing and making sex jokes as much as they can because their parents aren’t around.

There’s a scene in the third episode where Miguel, one of the young protagonists, is practicing karate in his bedroom with music playing and the door closed. His grandmother puts her ear to the door and says “must be jerking off” in Spanish. This is among the more refined of an endless slew of gags that add nothing to the narrative of the show and exist purely as juvenile fodder.

After that episode I took a break for a few weeks, because although the nods to the original movie were fun and the plot and character arcs were interesting, given how watching it made me feel, I wasn’t sure if it was worth it. Last night I decided to give it one more chance. Again, I really wanted to like it.

Well, episode 4 is centered entirely around a prank that involves Johnny drawing male genitalia on a billboard featuring Daniel’s face. They milk the joke to the tune of at least 20 more graceless indignities, with Daniel’s wife, co-workers, and car dealer competitors all taking dives into the bottom of the barrel to see how low things can go. These characters are in their late 40’s.

The episode also features teenagers doing drugs and intricately critiquing pornography like fully tenured veterans of misogyny. Of course the viewer at home gets to see the porn too.

The trailer for episode 4 features Johnny’s estranged son finding a flyer for his Dad’s new dojo while skateboarding. His friends inquire what he’s upset about, to which he replies “it’s my Dad” in disgust. However, the same scene in the full episode has him saying “it’s my f***ing Dad”. So they clearly had him do the scene both ways in case the profanity wasn’t gratuitous enough when they were putting together the edit. It played much worse with the forced cursing by the way.

I could go on, but I’ve already repainted a lot of pictures that I’d rather not have.

Look, I get that we’re supposed to understand that Johnny has had a rough life and that his son has issues because his Dad wasn’t around. Filmmakers have long been able to convey such themes without the crutch of vulgarity though. And it doesn’t explain why every other character in the show has to curse like a sailor and make raunchy jokes as if it’s the only way punctuate a sentence. The only explanation for this is that the writers are either victims or perpetrators of a society poisoned by perversion. Victims if this is how their minds work after marinating in a society that feels more like a locker room every day, or perpetrators if they’re purposely grasping for views by aiming for the lowest common denominator.

I know the response. “Get out of here with your goodie two-shoes. It’s no big deal. Besides, I’m entitled to my ‘adult’ entertainment.” But when is enough enough? How bad do things have to get before we realize that this continuous deluge of depravity in every type of media we consume matters? That it absolutely does create a culture of objectification, harassment, alienation, and rape?

It’s everywhere and I could say this about the large majority of movies, music, and television. But this one hits close to home for me and it’s quite telling how they’ve turned diamonds to dust here. The original Karate Kid did not need debauchery, crudeness, excessive violence, or sex to tell a story. It’s an impeccable treasure from the lost art of edifying entertainment, and it endures in our hearts because it was enduring and it had heart.

Somewhere deep within Cobra Kai lies the heart of its progenitor, but the producers have chosen to bury it under a mountain of trash. It will be remembered as just another cringeworthy juvenile drama, tainted by the locker room culture it was spawned from.

I guess that’s the difference between timeless and tasteless.

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PoetrySocial CommentaryVideo Poems

Triangles (3 Sides to Every Story)

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to the left, to the right
the pendulum sways
pivoting under the weight of animosity
and when it swings our way
yay
we celebrate with our team

but I’m starting think it’s just camouflage
and the pendulum is actually just a facade
for a guillotine
and I wonder if it’s going to stop in time
or if we even want it to

are we really getting anywhere?
or is this an endless tug of war
so entrenched that we’d rather sit here forever and die in the mud
than go have dinner together

some people want guns
other people want guns banned
but neither of these things is going to stop the killing
so maybe the real question is why we want to shoot each other

some people want a wall
some people want open borders
but we’ve already put up walls
when was the last time you opened a border to a foreigner that didn’t already live in your worldview

some people believe only what they see
some people see only what they believe
are we trying to know something?
or are we trying to become something?

some people want choice
and some people want life
I think God is wondering why there are unwanted pregnancies in the first place
unwilling participators in creation
the most divine thing we could ever do as humans
and we’re like, nah

and he’s probably like
all this arguing over health care
the sicknesses I really want you to cure aren’t even covered by insurance
and the prescription has already been written
you just have to go pick it up

why do you want to feel like you’re a winner every 4 years
when you could win eternity
so worried about the length of the grass in a preseason baseball game
that you forgot about the World Series

when was the last time one of your messiahs
actually fulfilled your desires
when you gave them your vote
your faith

why do you paint yourselves into a ballot box when I gave you a sky
why are you sitting in gridlock when I gave you a runway
shouting at each other from two ends of a straight line
wondering why the other can’t see your point

it’s because life is not one-dimensional
and honestly
you were meant for much more meaningful geometry

like triangles

we can mill around on the bottom
preoccupied with all the problems
stupefied by the minutiae
turning back whenever we encounter a new angle
or we can turn the corner, upward to the angels
not only ascending
but coming closer together
pouring our collective inventory
onto a terrestrial table of truce
forming a blueprint for celestial glory
shaping truth from our sharp edges
and what we really find in the climb is the perspective
that there are three sides to every story

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