i haven't blogged in a while. yesterday i started an internship with the tauranga house of prayer that i'll be involved with full-time for the next 3 months. i'm already learning so much and i haven't even started class yet. God is really good to me.

Shake the Dust by Anis Mojgani

This is for the fat girls.
This is for the little brothers.
This is for the school-yard wimps, this is for the childhood bullies who tormented them.
This is for the former prom queen, this is for the milk-crate ball players.
This is for the nighttime cereal eaters and for the retired, elderly Wal-Mart store front door greeters. Shake the dust.
This is for the benches and the people sitting upon them,
for the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns,
for the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children,
for the nighttime schoolers and the midnight bike riders who are trying to fly. Shake the dust.
This is for the two-year-olds who cannot be understood because they speak half-English and half-god. Shake the dust.
For the girls with the brothers who are going crazy,
for those gym class wall flowers and the twelve-year-olds afraid of taking public showers,
for the kid who's always late to class because he forgets the combination to his lockers,
for the girl who loves somebody else. Shake the dust.
This is for the hard men, the hard men who want to love but know that is won't come.
For the ones who are forgotten, the ones the amendments do not stand up for.
For the ones who are told to speak only when you are spoken to and then are never spoken to. Speak every time you stand so you do not forget yourself.
Do not let a moment go by that doesn't remind you that your heart beats 900 times a day and that there are enough gallons of blood to make you an ocean.
Do not settle for letting these waves settle and the dust to collect in your veins.
This is for the celibate pedophile who keeps on struggling,
for the poetry teachers and for the people who go on vacations alone.
For the sweat that drips off of Mick Jaggers' singing lips and for the shaking skirt on Tina Turner's shaking hips, for the heavens and for the hells through which Tina has lived.
This is for the tired and for the dreamers and for those families who'll never be like the Cleavers with perfectly made dinners and sons like Wally and the Beaver.
This is for the biggots,
this is for the sexists,
this is for the killers.
This is for the big house, pen-sentenced cats becoming redeemers and for the springtime that always shows up after the winters.
This? This is for you.
Make sure that by the time fisherman returns you are gone.
Because just like the days, I burn both ends and every time I write, every time I open my eyes I am cutting out a part of myself to give to you.
So shake the dust and take me with you when you do for none of this has never been for me.
All that pushes and pulls, pushes and pulls for you.
So grab this world by its clothespins and shake it out again and again and jump on top and take it for a spin and when you hop off shake it again for this is yours.
Make my words worth it, make this not just another poem that I write, not just another poem like just another night that sits heavy above us all.
Walk into it, breathe it in, let is crash through the halls of your arms at the millions of years of millions of poets coursing like blood pumping and pushing making you live, shaking the dust.
So when the world knocks at your front door, clutch the knob and open on up, running forward into its widespread greeting arms with your hands before you, fingertips trembling though they may be.

you remind me of the person i want to spend the rest of my life with.

"We all wake to the human condition. We wake to mystery and beauty but also to tragedy and loss.. We know that pain is very real. It is our privilege to suggest that hope is real, and that help is real. You need to know that rescue is possible, that freedom is possible, that God is still in the business of redemption."

nicholas hoult

Effy: Why bother?

Tony: With what?

Effy: Caring about people

Tony: You don't fool me, Effy Stonem.

i can't stop thinking about how good we could've been. my heart hurts, just a little.

baby, you should let me love you.

i can't sleep. ihh.

i still remember the exact moment i fell for you. i wish i could have that back, like maybe you would've been something i'd be good at. it doesn't hurt anymore, just sometimes when i think about it too much. i hope you're okay sweet boy.

i'm watching through seasons 1&2 of skins for the second time in 3 days. i'm sitting my license in a few days. i start my house of prayer internship in a week. i'm looking for a new job, i'm a damn decent barista if anyone wants to hire me haha. i feel down about myself this past little while, i'm doing it again- not letting people in, lying to them. old habits die hard i guess. i have a driving lesson tomorrow. i just feel quite lonely and ugly and distracted. i'm going to spend the next week in bed with my anxiety and watch criminal minds. sorry-i love you.

mitch hewer.

a lot of little things remind me of you. they make my heart go flutter.

Today I watched the boats

Moving through the harbor

Walking on water

In your arms I'd stay

Forever if I could

Forever if I may

Keeps me in your thoughts, don't disappear

if listening to your favourite music over and over could magically bring you to me, you'd definitely be here by now.

if only if only.

how is it that you still give me butterflies?

lend me your hand and we'll conquer them all, but lend me your heart and i'll just let you fall.

lend me your eyes i can change what you see, but your soul you must keep totally free.