Christmas: A Different View

Merry Christmas to you all! And since this is the last blogpost this year, Happy New Year as well. My Christmas was great, it went on all month, gift-wise... but I loved giving to the people I gave to much better, and spending good time with family and friends. As I write this, it is still the 25th, but by the time I post, it won't be. Small point being: this post counts as a holiday post, especially with the poem here. It's about the birth of Jesus... only this time, it's from Joseph's perspective on being a prospective father (something I don't hear in today's Christmas media, so I thought I'd take a whack at it). It's meant to be a monologue to God from him, and also moves to the death and resurrection of Jesus. (For more dramatic effect, put in a full orchestra in the background, and throw in a bit of tone from Fiddler on the Roof. This poem is also meant to be sung, but i don't have the equipment to record that and put it on here.)

"Joseph's Monologue"
by Neil Mullins

Why did he have to be born... here?
Why did he have to be born... now?
Why did it have to be him,
To which all knees might bow?

Just... why?...

Couldn't it have been at home?
Couldn't it have been later?
I shouldn't have promised her,
We shouldn't have come,
I can break this,
I still have the cha-ance!

But... no.
I still love her
I can't do that
To disobey
The Will of God

He will show him
He will lead him
Guide him everywhere
His feet will trod!

Yet... tell me why... why do I feel so alone?
~~~~~~~
How did it come... to this?
How could they kill... my son?
The one who I saw become a man
And was to be... the anointed one?

Just... how?...

You told me to call him Yeshua
Such a common name, at the time
And now this name hangs on a cross,
Tell me, how could this death... be called "sublime"?
~~~~~~~
Wait... what's this I hear?...
Shouts of joy and acclamation!
He embraces me, saying, "No tears...
I truly have come back,
To save this nation!

Now I realize it,
And for this my knees do bow:
Since I know this new Life,
I understand the why... and the how.

The Musings of a Single Young Man, Part 4

4th out of 5 in this poetic suite...

"Seasons of Attraction: Summer"
by Neil Mullins

It is twilight; a Summer's eve soft and clear
An orchestra full of stars is out to play
I lean my ear towards them; oh sweet music!
I stand and wait for my muse, I know she is near.

Though my toes touch the ground, I do not feel it
A golden season, and a drunken heart, I must admit
Though the drink is not wine; it is hope and love
Feeling endless; as sweet, warm winds from above.

I will run o'er the shore, seeking the one who eludes me
To find her... beyond the sunset, hold hands, and be free.
The heat wont bother us, we shant be found
And the love we share will be strong, as waves unbound.

The Musings of a Single Young Man, Part 2

Second poem in the suite...

"Seasons of Attraction: Winter"
by Neil Mullins

Dawn is gray, and the Winter sun is still below
It will rise clear over a stillborn landscape
I look out over the cold, silent stillness
My eyes search for warmth, in vain, on this plateau.

The bleak longing of my soul touches my bones
During the Winter I accept my reality alone
And I soar over lit windows and smoke;
The North wind ruffles through my wings evermore.

And yet I also observe from above this snowy waste
New growths of grass and leaves are springing up, with due haste.
Could it be, that from frozen streams and ground
Warmth in abundance, which melts the snow, can be found?

The Musings of a Single Young Man, Part 1

I've decided to post my most recent poetry project, which, due to the demands and attitudes caused by school, has taken over 2 months to do, and is still not complete. It is a suite of five poems, and... well, you'll see what it's about. One poem left to write for it, and maybe by the end of the week that one will be out, too.

Comments and questions are welcome.

"Seasons of Attraction: Autumn"
by Neil Mullins

On a cool Autumn day, when the sun settles down
And the clouds are scattered on the horizon
I look off to where the paint meets the canvas
But my mind is not where my eyes gaze upon.

No, it is where my heart looks that my mind thinks
And during Fall I often wonder if I am on the brink
Of becoming the only stone in the yard
To weather the gales and rain for years to come.

And yet I also ponder amidst the hues in the trees
If it is not too late to try and harness the breeze,
To fly down closer to the source of warmth,
Even though, with each passing day, it is fading?

Modern Phileo

30th post! Cool.

Anyways... it sure has been an interesting first seven days of school. Pomona Crusade has gotten off to a good start, and there are many freshmen and transfers interested in involvement here.

However, some of my friends at other schools have been under spiritual attack or in ugly situations, and it grieves me that they suffer these things... especially when those who are in trouble are my sisters in Christ. Now, in my experience, since I consider my relationship with my own sister to be pretty good, I treat my sisters in Christ like I treat her: with love, respect, sensitivity and more importantly, help. Help in listening to their problem and letting God work through me to advise them on it, whether that means finding them other sisters to help them out or working through them with it, if the situation is within my understanding. Of course, this happens with my brothers too, but more often lately it has been happening with my sisters. And... it just wounds my heart, to see them in pain like that; and because of Christ's love for the lost, even those temporarily lost, even for me... it wells up in me a response of:
1. Shock that it is happening
2. Sorrow at the pain
3. Compassion
4. Slight anger at the enemy (a big brother's classic response)
5. A showing of love, a pouring out of myself because of Him and because of the warmth and lovingkindness that they have shown me in my times of trouble.

It's an odd mix, I know, but I just can't break it down for you in any other way. It has gotten me to wondering lately, "I don't understand... why do they have to be in pain? And why did God give me all this love to pour out?" I don't feel worthy for it often, and sometimes I'm very tired when I first hear of a given situation. But for some reason, God gives me the strength and wisdom to respond, and to try and help them out of harm's way.

I don't mean to sound like the hero here, and I don't mean to boast either. I'm just telling it like it is. And I also know the answers to those wonderings: it's because God intends for me to be the brother to them at those times, and to show them His grace and love. But not just at these times, either. Being a brother is a full time job.

If that doesn't make it clear to you out of the sheer fact of redundancy, then perhaps this poem will.

"My Rose"
by Neil Mullins

You, my rose, are beautiful;
You, my rose, are deep.
And you, my rose, have petals
Soft, through which the Light seeps.
You, my rose, smell lovely;
You, my rose, are a flirt.
But you, my rose, have thorns
Sharp, which make my hands hurt.
You, my rose, are colorful;
You, my rose, are young.
For you, my rose, capture my
Gaze, and my heart is flung.
A rose is as love, both pretty and stinging
Yet I will let my hands drip blood whilst I am singing.
----------------
Now playing: Jars of Clay - Something Beautiful
via FoxyTunes

POST-RACE REPORT: FONTANA

Wow. What a race!

Yesterday’s Sharp Aquos 500 was my first-ever live NASCAR race. I went with my dad and my uncle to the California Speedway in Fontana, CA. It was such an invigorating experience and one I’ll never forget. I had a lot of fun and I learned a lot too; not just about NASCAR (which I am still only a first-year fan of), but also life as well. I read in a book lately (Chicken Soup for the NASCAR Soul) that one of the main reasons that people watch and enjoy the sport (or, as we fans say, “our sport”) is that it can draw many parallels to life’s experiences. And while some non-fans will say it’s just a Southern sport, you can’t deny that its influence and spectacle have moved across the whole country. (Logic follows: if you’ve heard of it, and haven’t traveled to those states, then its influence covers more than just that region.) While I did take notes on the race to help me keep my thoughts down for this report, however, I just can’t write a bland story out of this experience onto paper. No, for my words to have more effect, more impact, they must take the form of a poem. Perhaps if you read this, and you don’t understand why so many people watch NASCAR, you might change your mind after reading it. Or so I hope.

“Ode to the Stock-Car Race”
by Neil Mullins

It’s not every day you get to see stealth fighters
It’s not every day you come so far
Along with thousands of people to watch forty-three drivers
Cram themselves inside their respective cars.

The startup of the motors and the whirring of air wrenches
Immediately becomes symphonic to your ears
And the smell of burnt tires and gas beyond the fences
Is alluring both to your nostrils and those of your peers.

To see the field move with such efficiency
And yet also to see some be so brash
Makes you wonder, in life, if that’s why some are bold and crazy
Enough, so it seems, to even dare to crash.

You root for your driver and I’ll root for mine,
And we’ll both boo and laugh about it and be just fine;
But when the race is over at Victory Lane
Its not just the drivers, but also the fans, who get the fame.

In leaving the stands, this vision becomes true:
You don’t just become part of the race...
It becomes part of you.

(End Poem)

PS: I found out after i got home from last night's race that I have the opportunity to go to another one before the season is out! This time, it'll be in Phoenix. I'll be meeting friends there, and it won't cost too much to go. Plus, you get my knowledge personally to help you during the race in order to understand it better. Who could ask for more? Let me know if you want to go; planning is currently only in early stages.

Constant Vigil of Grace

Well, today marks my 25th post on this blog. Actually I didn't know that until I looked at my post count today. Now, if I had known, maybe I could have written some celebratory poem or something. But, especially in light of Monday's tragedy, I think something a bit more sober (and somber) comes to mind... but it is not all blackened and bruised...

"The Face Factory"
by Neil Mullins

I came into the factory today
To put smiles on some faces
But my boss told me, to my dismay
Those smiles wouldn't have cases.

"We're making frowns today," says he,
And when pressed for a reason, he replied,
"Because this week, tragedy struck:
Someone went out and made a killing spree."

This I just could not believe,
All I did in shock was stare
And tears rolled as I grieved
To kneel down humbly in prayer...

"Oh Lord, how can this be?
That so many innocents
Were taken so violently?

Where will the colors run now?
And the frowns coming off the line
How will they stop, Lord? How?"

And as I knelt in patience and despair
I felt my soul lifted in His loving care
God said to me, "Fear not for the orange and maroon;
As for the smiles, get ready...
Demand will be heavy for them soon."

(Dedicated in memory of the lives lost
at Virginia Tech on April 16, 2007)