Skip to main content

Roots And Threads

//What, How, Why, Who, and Where//
What is up and down, but life 
going through moods that matter 
nothing once they are through? 
How might I abound, but strife 
release its horrid clatter 
o'er my every move? 
Why is my ev'ry sound, but rife 
with pointless, mundane chatter 
designed for naught anew? 
Who am I to amount, but fife 
through this unwanted platter 
painted only to behoove? 
Where's my final mound? But life 
remains in a ruined shatter 
with my torn roots askew?
//More Than Myself//
I am a thread in a quilt, 
Clinging to the unraveled fibers around me. 
They say, "Pull free, be your own thread!" 
Though I break, I will not split 
For though faded, those shredding threads are what ground me; 
And without seams, I'd be dead. 
I have roots, spread far and wide 
Under soil malnourished and sparse of flowers. 
And yet, there's no place to transplant me. 
The world screams, "You must divide Yourself from them." 
Don't they know solitude devours 
Those that haven't community? 
What is a flower without 
A field in which to bloom, or a vase to delight? 
The unicorn without its herd? 
"I'm more than me," I cast out. 
What sort of fool would cut the strings to let the kite 
Fly free? Is that not absurd? 
Yes, I'm tied to shattered souls. 
But they are pieces of me, not a spider's web. 
I wasn't born to self-venerate. 
Of myself, I'm not proved whole. 
Broken are they who forfeit roots and threads for self. 
How could I e'er separate? 


Post a Comment

This is the part of the blog where you get to compliment me or disagree with my words. Or just say hi. But say SOMETHING, please, because YOUR words give MY words strength.

I hold all rights to speech though, and anything inappropriate (according to my personal judgment) will be quietly removed.

Popular Posts

Living Like The Amish: Interviews With Three "English" Families PART I

Many people are obsessed with the Amish.
I know at one time I was as well, and to a degree I still am.
But my perception  has changed with experience.

It started a long time ago when my family went to an Amish-held auction (no, it's not a place where you can buy Amish children, but a place where you can buy things from the Amish). I was eleven years old and enthralled to be surrounded by so many Amish. I loved the cockscomb flowers they sold everywhere. I bought a whole box for $2 and dried them for seeds so I could plant my own.
But then I experienced my first reality shock concerning the Amish.
I had assumed since they lived a simpler life everything about them was completely old-fashioned and natural.
Imagine my horror when I saw Amish walking around with soda cans and store-bought ice cream.

"Mom," I said. "He's drinking soda!" 

During my years living with the Amish I learned a lot about them. As individuals. As a culture. And about their history. Recently…

Inside The Land Of The Free

My name is Greg. 
I have a lot of time to think. Too much time. Sometimes I think about my life - why I am sitting in prison. I wonder what I could have done different - my life plays before my eyes.
"If only..."
But even I know that no amount of good works would have stopped tyranny from finding fault with me.
It is cold.
My clothes are thin.
My stomach is empty - occasionally filled with food of no sustenance. 
I hide my face in my knees - as if that will somehow protect me from the horrors of this dark cold dungeon. 
They keep it cold to freeze me, this I know.
It is a part of their game - to drive a lesson into me.
As if I have a lesson to learn solely because I was convicted.
Convicted, but not  guilty.
68 years for standing against injustice.
How many years have I sat in here?
I have forgot.
All I know is this question, "Was I fated for this? Did God grant my birth just so I could spend life as if dead?"
I cry out to God - does He hear me?
I do not know. I can no…

It Doesn't Take a Genius to Recognize Corruption

After attending the writer's conference I had the opportunity to spend a week with my dad in Las Vegas (we went to federal court trials).
I don't usually speak much of his work as I'm not sure all what to say about it. He keeps the public updated with what's happening in court, with all the many men locked up that he's trying to help out. I think he said there are like 19 guys right now that he is specifically trying to help release. 
{If any of you have heard of the Bundy Ranch Stand Off, you'll know a little of what he is doing}
I won't go into too much detail with his work. I will say if you want to know more of how to help out and learn what's going on just do some googling - my dad's name is John Lamb. You should be able to find plenty on him ;p
Anyways, I was quite shocked the first day.
Security didn't surprise me at all. Very much like an airport ;p  Except, most of the security was actually nicer ;) I was very pleased with security as far …

I Don't Love Babies

A lot of girls see babies and are like, "Oh!!!! Baby!! Have to hold, have to kiss, have to squish!" It's as if they can't control themselves from going crazy over any baby - because it's just too cute.

I've never been like this.
Babies are just babies to me. 
And I've never felt the urge that I just had to have a baby.
Baby-crazy girl: "Don't you just want a kid?"
Me: "No... I think I'd prefer to get married, first."
For a while I thought I may have been weird as most girls love little kids. But my sisters are just like me in this.
Then I  thought the reason may have been partly because I have ten younger siblings and I'm just accustomed to babies and kids. I see and hold and kiss babies all the time. So, maybe another baby wasn't new to me. - Even though I was always excited for another baby sibling.
But then I saw other girls, part of large families also, that were obsessed with strange babies. And I was confused again.