The Continuous Work of Matt Bohannon: poetry

The Soft Light

2010-10-22T09:01:00.000-07:00

The soft Light shines, half asleep

Yawn before the day.

Lazy trees sit in the breeze

How gently their branches sway.

The lovely, drab Darkness

Departed with adamant speed.

Retreated in far corners

The moment the Light began to bleed.

Pictures of past dreams

Linger in the quiet.

Hollow thoughts of how it was

Scatter throughout the silence.

This glory Light shines far beyond

What any mortal eye can see.

Reaching to a place far beyond

Serene placidity.

The Water Runs Cold

2010-09-20T11:55:00.001-07:00

These are the stories,
of which I was told,
My hands and stomach tremble.
The water runs cold.

The water runs cold
as it fills in my palm.
The water runs cold
like the silence to my song.

It brings me shivers
as it crawls down my spine,
Washing away dreams
where every things fine.

Now, this is the truth,
lo and behold,
The truth is fatal
as the water runs cold.

©2009 Matt Bohannon

Be Not Still

2010-09-13T07:34:00.000-07:00

We have heard with our ears, from our fathers

What you did in days long ago.

Deeds of power and might

So that ALL the Earth may know.

Oh, God do not keep silent. Be not quiet. Be not still

We starve with anticipation. Bring forth your word fulfilled.

Let the sea resound with angelic bands.

Let the rivers rise up to clap their hands.

Let the mountaintops ring, let the people sing

For Joy.

Let stones, unmoved be moved.

Let your righteousness be proved.

Let the heavens fall down to Earth re-found

Let your will in us employ.

You are my God, my King

Whose victories in me you decree.

I trust not in my sword or my bow

Only through you do we conquer our foes.

So, people, remember your God fulfills.

Do not keep silent. Be not quiet. Be not still.

It is Time

2010-09-10T09:08:00.000-07:00

I awoke this morning and what I lacked was guilt

not because i am not guilty for innocence was spilt.

Awake with relief, victory is mine.

I've been lifted up on high I no longer dwell with swine.

There was a cost I had to pay, to die to death and sin

only to emerge out of the womb-to be born again.

I was slain with my Lord whispering our battle cry

"Father forgive them, they no not what they do" onward to victory we die.

We can not be stopped by any sword or shield

slowly growing stronger 'til we control the field.

Victory is ours by providence divine.

Bring forth the kingdom, it is time.

Polluting the Midnight Dream

2010-08-27T09:51:00.000-07:00

"Black as night" is not a phrase used around these parts.

The darkest one can hide is within their very own hearts.

There is a dream of midnight and how it should be seen

I can tell you now that this orange was not in the color scheme.

The pale moon was meant to shine and guide our feet along the nights path

Now city lights parade, taunting the midnight wrath.

The stars were meant to orient us throughout the Earth and its seasons

For when the creator put them in their place I know He had his reasons.

Now when I look up and see nothing but blinking travelers and their planes

I know that we have taken this dream and put it all to shame.

I imagine a soft pure zephyr would come as if to disturb the silence

Now it's a job just to avoid the inter-state's violence.

No matter how minute that this issue may seem

I can't ignore the fact that we're polluting the midnight dream.

"Dying Man"

2009-11-30T21:30:00.000-08:00

“Dying Man”

He sat in bewilderment

as if suddenly unable to stand.

Saying nothing yet having

The contemplative look of a dying man.

One who begins to realize

the evanescence of his frame.

“Remember me” he longs to say

possessing no such claim.

Like the ebbing of a tide

that created such great waves

he was the master of his sea

and now has become its slave.

It takes all his strength to tolerate

and maintain composure in his mess.

Holding is anxiety

deep within his chest.

Placid face. Quiet eyes.

His reality goes unseen.

Beneath the stillness of his skin

he’s anything but serene.

Sitting alone quietly

the stillness he can’t stand.

Saying nothing, staring out with

the contemplative look of a dying man.

Wandering

2009-10-09T10:56:00.000-07:00

This is a long one so i'll keep the intro short. Here it is,

"Wandering"

The forest stretches wide as it sprints deep.

The ground has grown dark from the canopy of its trees.

Stepping into its jurisdiction, wondering to its ends

Wrestling with it's captivation, forging through its limbs.

It's depth is what I'm after, it's depth I will reach

But beyond my forests depth I'll be confronted with a peak.

Alone? I'm not. Place my hands on this rock.

I will not quit, I will not quit until I reach its top.

Stand up straight, take a breath, the air is thin and cold.

Take a look. The view exquisite as well as challenging and bold.

Shrug the bitterness off my shoulders. My hands brush off the frost.

Hearing voices in the distance, echoing "Your Lost."

Descend from my forte, the valley awaits.

Sorrow's thick, darkness reigns, still Peace in me creates

Joy emerged unyielding, Love again prevails.

Telling of such tales that sure Faith never fails.

Still the voices, louder, "Put down your cross"

I know the truth that while I wander, that doesn't mean I'm lost.

But the valley's cold with continued depth, dark clouds fill the sky

The rain comes down, the waters rise, I question, where am I?

The sun breaks through, the flood recedes, I climb from out my low.

My journey's long and testing, where next it leads me I don't know.

The sun's light is blinding, to shield my eyes I raise my hand.

I see my journey junctions through this desolate land.

Stare off at the horizon, intensely it stares back.

It questions my crossing of it's desert, implying the distance inside I lack.

My legs burn with cramps, my feet are weak and slow.

The deserts edge looks just as far as it did a mile ago.

What's the distance? Do I have it? I have to go some more.

Still I pine for its edge, to its distance I implore.

With every step I am reminded of the path I never found.

The desert only grants me with dry cracks on it's ground.

The voices speak of how I'm lost, searching for where I belong.

I tell the truth, I have been found, I've been found all along.

Migrants of Hope

2009-09-26T13:14:00.000-07:00

Traveled from afar, migrants of hope

Crawling in the silence, scraping their souls, stitching our cloths

Dwelling in still shadows cast by skyscrapers of greed

Premeditated blindness–on the invisibles rights they impede
The innerworkings of a clock, they comprise our great machine

Lying behind the face–their presence goes unseen

They work for while their good then get thrown away

A piece of trash left on the street and all without a say

Cries for help are not heard poverty keeps them hoarse

No one dares inquire about our savings source.

Take advantage of low cost there’s a sale today

Lose no sleep while you forget that someone has to pay

Voice Gone. Can't Shout.

2009-09-19T10:14:00.000-07:00

Voice Gone. Can't Shout.

Trouble. I need escape.

Searching. My hope deflates.

Danger. I can't get out.

Voice gone. Can't shout.

Shallow. My breath is trapped.

Mocked. The anger laughs.

Shadows. The demons dance.

Rescue. Not a chance.

Desolate. Deserted land

Reaching. Empty hand.

Break. My soul my bone.

Solitude. All alone.

Dry. My heart my eyes.

Life. Slowly die.

Ache. From inside out.

Voice gone. Can't shout.

Delusions

2009-09-08T09:49:00.000-07:00

The inspiration that I got for this poem came from Psalm 4. Check it out.

"Delusions"

Silent in my bed I searched my heart

and did not find what you'd expect.

Gold was not what was discovered,

but delusions that the evil counsels did elect.

These delusions, my delusions

I've sought for many days.

How long must I love false gods

and turn Your glory into shame?

Hear me, answer me.

Give relief to my distress.

Free me from my cell.

I've been a captive of evil arrest.

Your face brings great joy.

You alone I find peace.

Finally I lay down,

in safety I fall asleep.

Good

2009-09-01T12:57:00.000-07:00

“Good”

The consequence of good is often death.

The consequence of righteousness leaves no room for rest.

Can good be true without the absence of bad?

Will we ever find the peace that this world once had?

With people being used as a means to an end

We must be careful about who we call friends.

How can we promote good while we’re constantly in defense?

Confused by what is good, definitions don’t make sense.

This is the home we have created.

Morals sedated, ego inflated.

Welcome to our home free from peace and clarity.

Welcome to your home, a masterpiece of tragedy.

2009-08-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

I'm going back to Oklahoma today to visit my family. I have lived in California now for four years and I still refer to Oklahoma as home. I suppose it will always be so.

"Home Sick"

I saw my father today.

Looked him in the face and stared deep into his eyes.

I turned to him my back

upon saying our goodbye's.

My mother, she left early,

for her tears she could not hide.

We need strength in times of darkness

and weakness is to cry.

Attempting to re-define

this abstract word that we call home.

There's one for me a thousand miles away

but can I create my own?

Foreign to this land.

Detached from the one's I know.

Questioning my decisions,

Decisions to stay or to go.

All I have is hope

and even that is running thin.

With a nervous hand and twitching eye

depression crawls through my skin.

Unsure of where I'm at

or where I ought to be.

Knowing only that I'm alone,

separate from family.

Sick from separation,

my stomach turns and growls.

I hunger for connection.

My stubborn mind is proud.

So I remain in dark allies

with one eye always looking back.

Longing for the day

When I am re-attached.

Poetry

2009-08-09T18:12:00.000-07:00

I decided that since I cannot keep up a blog of my life (given that it is not that interesting) that I will change the purpose of said blog. It shall be now a publication of poetry. My poetry and perhaps other works by inspiring writers. The first piece I present to you is one of my personal favorites. It is entitled "I Thought About You Then"

"I Thought About You Then"

I thought about You last night

but I didn't speak a word

I've talked to You before and wondered

if you ever heard

We used to be good friends

but I don't remember when...

I thought about You then

Alone in this room

i lie with wide eyes

Numb to the touch

lungs filled with sighs

Our distance seems so grand

in reality is so thin...

I thought about You then

Standing before the sink

conscience not so clear

Don't dare look in that mirror!

the thought brings forth a tear

Pick up the dirt and blood stained soap

i wash my hands again...

I thought about You then

It's chilly out

on this starless sky

While a cold, silent whisper

simply passes by

Fear strikes my tongue

conscience of my sin...

I thought about You then

Miles lay before me

and blisters rule my feet

I realize that I have become

the lost and wondering sheep

Reluctant soul. Fast paced heart

i know that I can't win...

I thought about You then

Tired now of running

hiding, obsolete

Ashamed to confess

his need in my defeat

Words trapped within

to speak, I don't know how

I thought about You then

I can't be without You now.

Re-Learning to Wait

2009-01-11T14:05:00.000-08:00

Patience. A virtue that has grown virtually extinct in todays society. Being hunted down by technology that is motivated by human greed.

My scooter has been out of commission now for just over a week. Between school and work my days are busy and my transportation needs are high. With my scooter in the shop, I had to find alternative transportation. I have been forced to take the bus to school. Something I haven't done since I was a sophomore in high school. Now each day I wake up early to walk out to the bus stop and wait.

Do you remember what it is like to wait? Most of us have tried to eliminate waiting in our lives. If you are in control then you don't have to wait. Waiting = powerlessness.

This past week I have had to wait...a lot. Or at least a lot more than what I am used to. There is a certain feeling one can get while waiting. A feeling of nervousness, anticipation, anxiety. These are the feelings I normally get when I have to wait. When I am powerless and not in control.

These are feelings I hate.

It is easy to get caught up in life. After all, it demands everything you've got. As difficult and stressful as this last week has been, I have began to re-learn something that I should have never forgot how to do. Wait. We are brought up in a culture that has forgotten how to wait. At least, I know I have.

Towards the end of the week something phenomenal happened to me. A revelation if you will. As I waited, my nervousness, anticipation and anxiety disappeared and something beautiful appeared in its place. What stood with me instead was Peace.

The Bible is filled with teachings about waiting. Psalms 27:14 states " Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." Using strength and waiting in the same instance contradicts todays theology. God wants us to wait, for when we wait we discover some really beautiful things. We find strength and now I realize, we find peace.

Traffic Revelations

2008-12-16T11:42:00.000-08:00

Over the years, silence has become one of my favorite things (or lack of, however you want to look at it). In American culture, silence is like a fine wine or a rich cigar. It's an acquired taste but once you acquire it, you savour it to its fullest extent.

Between school, work and being newly married, there is not much silence in my life anymore. So I cherish every minute I get. Most of my silence comes in the form of traffic which has allowed me to actually enjoy traffic. I know, who would have thought traffic could be enjoyable. In my silence I am able to open my mind and consider all that is going on in my life and also the world. It's a time I can be with God without interruption. To simply sit and be with the Creator of all. Through this, the Creator has shared some revelations about my life and my heart.

"For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks."

-Jesus (Matthew 12:34)

This scripture came to mind while I was pondering in my car last week. Considering that the words I speak reflect my heart, I began to reflect on what my mouth talked about. I realized that what I talked about was garbage. I speak of football, weather, traffic, work, junk. The majority of my speech is garbage. Pure garbage. I rarely spoke of God, love, mercy and peace. I had to come to terms with the sad truth that my heart is filled with garbage. In my flection, something else came to my mind. A cheesy DC Talk song. That's right DC Talk. But only one line came to mind. The verse goes "My feet my venture to the ground but you will never let me down, I can't hold it in my soul is screaming"

I realized, I don't remember the last time I allowed the holy spirit to fill me so much that I could not hold it in anymore. That I just had to talk about it because my very soul was screaming within me. I miss that feeling.

God spoke to me that night on the 210 freeway. I know that I have a higher calling. God has something in store for me, I just don't know what it is yet. But first, I have to get back to my first love. And I better start running. Who knows how much time I have. He could call on me any day now.

Sixth Grade

2008-12-12T09:45:00.000-08:00

Sixth grade was my most memorable year in school. Not because of all the fun or because of how popular I was, but rather it were the lonely and isolated times that made it memorable. The times that I was walking around the playground by myself with nobody to talk to but my own feet.

I was the new kid. Transferring from a private academy to the public school system. This was a change I have long been petitioning my parent for. I hated the academy and my best friend attended this public school and we happened to reside in its district. After I finished my fifth grade year at the academy my parents agreed to enroll me in that public school. Dale High School. I never thought I would have had such a hard time fitting in.

At the academy, I was somewhat popular. I had plenty of friends and had no worries about being alone. I guess I really never knew what alone was. I wasn't at the top of the totem pole (so to speak) but I was far from the bottom. I assumed the transition would be easy. I assumed that friends would come naturally. I was wrong.

My best friend, Brandon, was a grade younger than I was so we didn't have any classes together. We didn't even eat lunch at the same time. The only times we could hang out was during recess. But he had his network of friends, and I, well you know where I was. I was left kicking rocks in the front of the school yard.

I always stayed at the front of the school yard, closest to the building. That way, when the bell rang I could hurry to class. Not that I loved learning (because I didn't) but because in the class room I had a place where I belonged. There was a desk especially for me. That was the only place in school where I knew where I was supposed to be. Everywhere else, I was lost.

I distinctly remember one day on the playground. I began playing this game with some of the other boys. The game was simple. We surrounded this pole that had a bucket on top of it. There were four holes on the side of the bucket so when we threw a basketball in it, it could come out of any one of the holes. Whoever rebounded the ball then threw the ball back in the bucket and we started again. But, more importantly, I remember thinking "Why are they letting me play with them?" I really wasn't sure. But for as long as they would let me, I would play. They seemed to tolerate me more than accept me. They still didn't talk to me but they didn't kick me out either.

As far as I was concerned, it was a good day.