I don't really blog very much anymore...

Here goes nothing:

• I have the SAT on Saturday...
• I have the ACT a week from Saturday...
• I have either a rehearsal, work call, or show for YGMCB on 26 days this of month.
• I have a song in the revival. That makes me happy.
• Last night I couldn't fall asleep, so I listened to John Piper sermons and talked with my friends on AIM.
• Trying really hard to get this off the ground.
• Daryl, Amber, and Gray were here last week. It was a whole bunch of fun.
• I can't wait for rehearsal tonight.
• I'm supposed to interview at Steak n Shake this afternoon... I desperately need a job.

• I miss a lot of people.
  

Summer Feet

Earlier today I completed the AP Literature test which marked the end of my school year. (sort of) Basically I'm finished with everything that I'm going to be finished with. I'll be doing math and Greek throughout the summer, and for the rest of this month I'll be working on test prep for the SAT and ACT. But in actuality I'm done with the school year. That is I've finished each class that I've been in. So I guess technically I am on summer break.

Today I began progress on my summer feet and now the souls of my feet are tingling. Ever since I was little I've gone barefoot as often as possible, especially in the summer. I don't like being confined by the prisons known as shoes. Indeed, if it is possible and I'm required to wear some sort of foot-prison, then I prefer flip flops. Last summer I used my flip flops so much that I totally wore out the heels on both flip flop... and I kept wearing them, until Sarah bought me a new pair! But honestly there is nothing more pleasing to the foot then to be free and open, to feel grass under the soul, and revel in it's soft, comforting rub. Traditionally during the summer the souls of my feet develop firm pads from rubbing against rough earth so much. But the pads only encourage more barefootedness, as they allow my feet to go all over the place without feeling pain from rocks or sticks against my feet. I like to call these pads, my summer feet; and today I did a good deal of summer foot making by playing four games of basketball barefoot, and running a mile barefoot. (Nothing in the world is more liberating.)

Andrew and Thomas get home tomorrow! (scoooorrreeeeee!)

The Last Day of Poetry Month

(April 30!)

We've reached the end,

Of this excursion,

A month of poetry submersion.

Some had said, "It can't be done."

To them I say, "You're over-run!

"For I have conquered,

Stand victorious,

As 3o poems now, so glorious,

Fill the pages of this blog,

To here, forever clear the fog

Within your head,

Your doubts I shred.

As fame and glory, now shall spread.

My poems bear me witness here,

I've made it, and it's been severe.

P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY KANDYCE!!

Poem Packing

(April 29)

On a mission,

Expedition,

Won't give up to opposition,

Won't conform to recognition,

Or loose myself in demolition.

I will finish;

Won't diminish.

I'll seal the deal,

Make all dreams real.

Complete the task,

That's so unreal.

Here_I_Am

(April 28)

Here I am, and I'm not quite sure.

I've lost touch with time, lost touch with life,

Here I am, and I'm looking for a cure,

But it's already found, in the pain and the strife.

Here I am at the end of the rope.

When the time runs out, when the sun gets low.

Here I am, hanging on to the hope

Of a place called Heaven, where someday I'll go.

Always Puzzling

(April 27)

AP! AP! AP! AP! AP!

I wonder what went wrong with me.

AP! AP! AP! AP! AP!

Just a week and I'll be free.

AP! AP! AP! AP! AP!

Just come together now, agree.

AP! AP! AP! AP! AP!

Let's hope it, a 5, will be.

amp it I on

(April 27)

So tell me, what do you wait for?

The world is but an open door.

Come and enter, be amazed,

For very few come out, unfazed.

The Old You

(April 26)

I miss the old you.

The one who used to love me,

The one who used to care.

I miss the old you.

The one who used to wrap me in sweet embrace;

In coming or going, to always be there.

I miss the old you.

The one who'd always listen,

The one who would forgive.

I miss the old you.

I want back the former;

Because without, life is hard to live.

The Draft

(April 25)

Stafford, Delmas, Pettigrew;

The Lions, talent, here accrue.

Levy, Williams, Hill and Brown,

One day, these names will be renown.

Murthat, Follett, Grankowskie,

These men, soon Super Bowl champs, will be.

The Lions draft; so swift, so sweet.

And one day; we, the world, will beat!

C |ou...(ple)...t|s

(April 24)

In free verse it's so hard to write,

So now, instead, I rhyme tonight.

The Devil is so hard to fight,

So I submit to You tonight.

With four I-ams I form each verse,

And now, between the lines, immerse.

I let my lack of faith disperse,

And now, within your love, immerse.