Awake in Sleep

Three cups sunk to sip
Nothing left but a drip
Proof that I've been here
Nothing else lies near
Waking up to greet the day
I don't know another way
Passing through again
Nothing save this pen
Work is over, I should rest
In my mind, thoughts protest
Through the night awake in thought
Remembering all that I forgot
Great warrior to raise a fight
Arriving with no foe in sight
All prepared for naught
No victory to spot
A fire built to warm a soul
Poking logs, heating coals
Left alone in night
Darkness cools the light
Waiting, waiting, seeking out
Don't know what its all about
Don't know what I'm looking for
This I know: My eyes are sore
Yet here I still remain
Placid and refrained
I will wait on you
I will trust in you

Lost to Regrets

  Do you ever get the feeling that you are working so hard towards something, and just when you are finished, that thing seems to vanish? It is as if I spent endless hours preparing a campsite, making the fire and setting up the tents, but only for me to sit alone starring into the flames that lick the sky.
  This feeling has been set on repeat in my life, like an endless alarm clock that will not turn off. I will rush home to finish my homework, and get everything that I need to done only to sit alone in my room, waiting and watching. I do not know what I am waiting for, or when it will come, yet I wait all the same. On nights like tonight when I should be able to rest easy knowing that I have nothing left to do in the day, I feel that there is always something missing. The words from a song by Blink182 keep coming to mind: "I can't wait 'till I get home to pass the time in my room alone..."
  Several months back (maybe weeks, these days seem so slow), I wrote a post about a dream that I'd had several times and that...well, I'll just paste it in here:

A dream.

I dream that I am going along, as one normally would in a days journey. Cleaning up here, doing school, perhaps calling a friend up to go see a movie. Always, though, there is a nagging sense that I have left something behind, or that I am missing something really important. Like a great grandfather clock in the hall, always in the back of my mind, silently overruling me. I search the drawers, I look through the creaking cabinets, through my backpack and in my car. Unable to remember, unable to call upon previous memories to look back on, unable to do anything but continue on and hope that it wasn't terribly important. Nothing can be too great to leave behind, right?

  I have the insatiable feeling that there is more to this than I give credit for, yet every time I look back and  seek answers, I find nothing. Am I looking for remains of better days? Maybe my mind is searching in the past thinking that all is not lost. Perhaps all is not lost, yet I have moved on. I do not regret what is behind me, nor do I wish to return, but I can't help miss the warmth that is captured in thoughts of yesterday.

  So in summation, I have no summary. Sometimes life is only presented, not fully solved. If I cannot find some way to move on or find peace in the past, taking them for what they were and loving the memory of them, I will loose myself to regrets.

A Disclaimer of Sorts

I have something that I feel I need to clarify for any of you who read these posts. Some people think, from reading some of my posts, that I am a depressed teenager and that I have no life or that I am like Charlie Brown: hopelessly alone. The truth is that I am one of the most loved people on this earth, and that I have so much going for me. The things that I say on this blog are things that come from my heart that God has given me to share, not some way to say 'woe is me'. I think the reason it freaks a lot of people out when they read some of my stuff is because it is not by any means typical for a teenager to be so open. Well, that said, I am anything but typical.

Everyone has things that weigh on their hearts; those are the things that make us who we are. They are usually not dealt with, or are sort of kept in a back corner or a closet of our minds. I am so grateful that God has given me such a trusting heart so that I can unload all the junk that builds up, and deal with it now rather than find it lurking in my shadow twenty years from now.
So there it is, my 'disclaimer' of sorts. I pray that God will give all of your hearts rest from this world, and that you will find freedom to live and love as I am finding.
God bless

Where is the Moon?

This song is one that has been brewing for a while now. It only took me about an hour or two to write with music and everything, which is fast even for me. Wow, this song is engraved so deeply in my mind, it is almost hard for me to believe I played it at open mic (at Buon Giorno) tonight. It is kind of like taking off your shirt in front of an audience, not the worst thing you could do, but it is so strange just the same. So here it is, a song that is a page from my journal, a talk with God and the pain behind it.

Why must you leave? Must you go away?
Can we not bask in another light of day?
What are you running from my dear
Can we not stand and fight the
Fear inside
The fear inside
Fight the fear inside
Away, Won’t you stay

As the sun sets I hold on for the light
Where is the moon? I sit alone in the night
Why must this sun always fall down
And leave me broken on the
Hard cold ground
The hard cold ground
This same old broken ground
Tonight, This can’t be right

You returned , maybe we could make it right
But I stayed alone, my heart won’t stand another night
I tried to love you tried to stay strong
But I’ve been dragged behind you
Far too long
I can’t hold on
I can no longer be strong
For you

A Righteous Plea

Father, here you see
Wicked things are done
Reliance is created
Drawn to as the sun
Weary fish unto bait
Hunger may be filled
But in their hearts, a hook
Young blood is spilled
Follow blind as bats
Feeling warmth and care
Knowing not where they go
Affection is their snare
A longing filled inside them
They cannot deny
Held to as a spell
God you see the lie
It stands proud before us
It sits with head held right
Standing as a candle
Atop lies not a light
Feeding on innocence
Longing, this disease
They find fulfillment here
It takes what it please
Where is the righteousness
Who will cast out night?
Will there be no end to this
Is freedom not in sight?

Give me strength to testify
Be the spirit here
In you God I am strong
In you I have no fear
Be the light behind me
The hands to clean the dirt
To reach below my comfort
Touch the pain and hurt
You know where it lies
How to heal the pain
When the cloud has left
Light will shine again

Cracks of Light

Meetings, greetings; coming, going

Ever changing, never showing
Shattered glass changes view
Cracks in light alter you
Pulling, changing ocean tide
Upon the bough I take a ride
Deepening waves alter sight
Dancing light turns to night
Moon give and take away
Reducing night, bringing day
My fish’s eye, all is bleak
Hints of life have their leak
Chasing butterflies by day
Impressions cast pave my way
Dying sun, dying soul
As the earth my mind grows cold
Catching all yet holding none
Show me I have just begun
Lost from good ‘ol days
Silence grows, I make my way
Quiet walks heal a mind
In remain it will bind
In my wake, not a soul
With each thump another hole
Another night, another blue
Not to stop ‘till I reach you
No equation set to worth
What equates truth unearthed?
Sent to save a broken heart
Worth a rescue from the start
Called by one good and strong
Listen for its beating song
A prisoner caught in war
Wounded and sore
Hold on dear heart
You are set apart

Introspective Telescope (Psalm 51:17)

Lately, as you've most likely read in my previous posts, I've been digging through a lot of pain recently from the past (for some reason that makes me sound old...). I've been really busy though this weekend though and haven't really had much time to get away and do much writing. So I've kinda put it back in the closet for a while, but it keeps coming back over and over again. It won't seem to go away, and that is just it, it will not go away...not on its own. Wounds to our spirit, unlike wounds to our body, will never heal on their own. They may stop hurting, true, they may not be seen to the naked eye, undoubtably,  but they are always there none the less. I have found in my very short time so far on this earth that there is nothing that I, or anyone else can do to heal me. A girl might make it feel better, distractions may take away the pain, but I cannot do anything to heal it. Below is all that I have been feeling, and all the weight on my heart poeticized (is that even a word?). There is so much more on this subject in my life, but all will come out in time.

Hope as scarce as diamonds
A torn and revenged mine
Lost in its darkness
Trapped in my mind
I cry, “father save me!”
“Can’t you see my fear?”
Peeling jolts of thunder
Heavy draining tears
Eclipsed by driving pain
Darkness in the sun
I felt no arm around me
No beating heart but one

In my bones, a hollow
Attracting draft and frost
Words like arrows sting
Echo what I’ve lost

Apart from distant memory
No bowl to catch blood
In this cave, a rustle
From trickle to a flood
To the naked eye, peace
Silence will deceive
When set to ponder wounds
Pains are retrieved
Inside my chest a hole
The size of a heart
Where has gone the strength?
Has all begun to part?
Peering with a flashlight
Seeking parts within
Introspective telescope
Eager eye to lend

Shivering in darkness
Warmth of once is lost
You won’t leave my broken heart
No matter what the cost

I Hate All Your Show

I have found over the years that I am a very trusting person, and will believe almost anyone. Especially with writings and words that they choose to put down. It is such a gift for me and it so close to my heart, so I think that anyone who writes does so from their heart. Unfortunately, I have found, that is not the way our world is. It is painful for me to find that what someone says in everyday life is, in fact, not always what their heart says. The hardest thing for me, though, it when people talk about 'God as their father', and how they 'always rely on Him'. It has become a status to show with pride rather than a promise to be kept at all cost. In my mind it has become nearly synonimous with the idea of a 'purity ring', a way to 'consecrate yourself to the Lord', yet their actions and lives have become gross distortions of the simple commitments. Words not birthed in truth will live their lives well in the moment, but will walk themselves to an untimely death in the end. Don't call yourself a 'man of God' unless you know what that means and are ready to walk it through. I hate all your show.
 So I call myself and all of you out there on this: Who do you say you are? Who does God say you are? What does the world see when they see you? Is it a clean window that will hide nothing when the sun breaks out, or is your window, your mouth, full of things that do not want to be brought into the light. Can you stand up genuine and unashamed in front of those around you when the truth comes out?


I lay an open book
Come and take a look
See what caused these burns
See why the page won’t turn

My mind an open stage
The actors play in rage
Clenching fists and crying out
“We have no lines!”
“We are without!”

My soul a fertile creek
Now has sprung a leak
A place to bring relief
Now mistrust and grief

My heart a compass guide
Pointed south in lie
My true north has failed
My ship has lost its sail


  I figured it was about time for me to write up another 'post'. I've just been so inspired to write poetry lately that I haven't really slowed down for several weeks.

  I told God the other night that I was ready to move on, to become something apart from myself; almost to become a cause outside of my own shoes. That is no small thing to ask, and I realize that there is going to be a lot of growing and a lot of pain in the process, but it is worth it. God took me up on my offer to grow stronger, but that process requires opening of old wounds, which there are plenty of. Today, accordingly, has been a very tough day; many things have been pulled up from the past. I have uncovered a pain that I though no longer hurt, but it still does and it has literally changed the way I am.

  A while back, to make a long story short, I was given the cold shoulder to some random girl that I liked. I brushed is aside as if it had no value whatsoever and continued on, but all the while it was growing deeper and deeper. The lie that is associated with that wound says..."You are not even good enough for a ____ (fill in the blank) like her" and "You are not worth anyone's time; If you want a friend you have to make one." God. The realization came over me like a thick wool blanket; all light was extinguished. It was all that I could do to hold back the tears as I finished up my homework.
  I did what I usually do when my heart is heavy, I went to Buon Giorno. I will just sit ant write (usually poetry and such), and kinda just meet with God and ask Him to "give me his eyes" to disconnect myself from my pain and see what he sees. He really met with me there today and assured me that, "We will walk through this together; You are not alone."
 So, any of my sparse yet dedicated readers, if you would pray that God would see me through to his bigger plan for me, and that I would learn to be led blindly and to trust his voice, that would be such a blessing.

Christopher Steven Coan


With the sunlight, open eyes
What was lost is found
From the cardinal’s mouth
A sweet and lovely sound
A shadow dwelt above my head
Now the storms have gone
The gentle light is peeping out
I gladly look upon

So much has been taken
So much have I lost
Shadows kept on falling
Racking up their costs

To a secret mountain
I go to be healed
With me in the forest
Slowly through the fields
One day to reach water
To bathe deep down
Ever am I thirsty
Needing more of what was found

As I wait to be held
You gentle cradle my mind
Thought we cannot touch
You lead a beggar blind
Broken back from searching
Burned and scathed inside
In warm arms rested
Oh the times I’ve cried
Any would wipe a tear
But only you wipe the heart
Lift the spilled blood
And promise to never part