The Fingerpaint Life

The boy he had a cross-shaped stamp
Filled with ink inside.
He used his cross-stamp everyday,
And cared for it with pride.

He would stamp everything he did,
With the symbol his stamp produced.
Until one day his precious stamp,
His precious stamp, it…
Broke.

The ink, ran over the paper,
The stamp was useless now.
He had to send his message still,
But with all this mess, well, how?

The boy sat still, and staring.
At the problem before him.
And slowly his hand moved forward,
With a deep-joy, kind of grin.

His fingers touched the spilt blue ink
And began to swirl around.
Before he knew it, what lay there?
On the page he found…

A cross, a cross, so beautiful,
With swirls springing from the mess.
It was the same, but meant so much more,
Than what he’d called before, “success.”

And what- near the end of each swirl of blue,
What was that he now saw?
His very own fine fingerprints,
He then sat back in awe

With hands held up he saw his fingerTIPS,
Blue from the art he had made.
This gift he was about to give,
Was on himself displayed.

He’d never done something like this before,
The note he wrote that day,
Was the first note he ever wrote to God,
It said, “God, I just wanted to say…”

“To say, ‘Thank You.’” Yes.
That’s all it really said,
And where he’d usually stamp his stamp,
Was a fingerprint cross instead.

He sent the note to Jesus,
He sent it that same day,
And when he washed his hands that night,
The blue began to fade.

He decided then that, to remember,
He would paint frequently.
Not with brushes, or with stamps,
But with his fingers, personally.

Five Hot Guys

Five hot guys, were packed into a car one day… on their way home from an afternoon at the movies.

(Yes, “hot”… it was like 95 degrees, and the air conditioning hadn’t been running all that long.)

One of them had in his hand, his sunglasses…
One had the “oh my goodness” handle…
(You know… the handle above the door, that everyone grabs when the driver takes a corner at somewhere near sixty mph, and then screams, “Oh, my goodness!”)…

Alright, so,
Another had an airsoft gun,
One more, had in his hand the air rushing by outside the window…
and one…
thankfully…
Had the steering wheel.

Cruising down the road, forty miles an hour…

Now…

Picture this…

These same five guys, packed into the back of a police cruiser… wait, four…

Four guys now, packed into the back of a black and white dodge with… oddly enough, one guy tied to the top and a policeman, at the end of his long shift -too long- behind the wheel.

Apparently too much government assistance (*ahem* the people’s tax money.) was being given to “fight global warming” and to promote religious “tolerance” and not enough was being directed to the municipal police department and law enforcement of Aurora Colorado.

With that said, there was only one policeman in the area, and obviously, only one car as well. There wasn’t even enough room in the cramped quarters of the backseat of a “compact” police car for four, let alone five…

(Shall we say, the rear seat had a three-and-a-half-body capacity?)

So, handcuffed and tied to the racks ontop of the government vehicle… was the youngest of the five.

On their way to the police station, the police man hit a red light… ok, so he didn’t actually “hit” it, he came to it, and stopped… surprisingly enough… -some cops don’t, especially when tired.

While stopped, he rubbed his eyes, it hadn’t been easy coercing these five delinquents into, and onto his small cruiser.

But he was nearly there… just a few more blocks.

-wait…

Just outside the window, on his side of the car…

Was that?

It was…

There, on the ground…

Rope?

From whe-

Oh no!!!

The law enforcement officer, turned back to see the guy formerly tied to the roof of his… his government’s car… and saw his back disappear behind the hill near the intersection.

Alright… now…

Rewind with me…

Back about two minutes…

The tiee, with a 40 mile an hour wind blowing his, albeit, short hair, was enjoying his unconventional ride across town.

With every moment, he was realizing however, that if he were convicted, his would be the stiffest of all the sentences… as it was his airsoft gun that ended up getting them into this in the first place, he began to consider his means of escape.

He realized that his neck could bend enough for his teeth to reach the ropes around his chest.

With a grin, he quickly started to chew… gnaw… at these ropes… apparently very old…

And in about a minute and half he was loose enough to slip out from under his bonds.

He looked up ahead, and saw the light turning yellow, and his mind raced faster than his consciousness could realize, and his limbs began following a plan, the details of which he wasn’t even fully aware himself.

With the stealth of a cat, and the nimbleness of a mountain goat, he positioned himself on top of the car, now slowing to a stop; he was poised like a panther for a leap and his adrenaline pumping like an oil well in Saudi Arabia.

Moments before the car reached a full stop, his feet left the roof, hardly making a sound, definitely not one the exhausted ears of our friendly neighbourhood policeman could hear.

This brings us back to speed with the story from inside the car.

The four others in the backseat, were realizing slower than the driver, what was happening… and they, being handcuffed, had little to do aside from watch the events unfold…

The policeman swung his door open and raced around the front of his car…

The light turned green, and the line of cars waiting behind him, honked… half of them, unaware of the “lost cargo” that was escaping to the right…

As the policeman made his way across the street, a car coming through the light, the other direction, swerved to miss the “boy in blue” and ran *head-on* (hate that commercial), into the car our four friends were waiting in, and watching from…

Sliding off the road, the police car tipped on its side, and bent around a stump, allowing the locked door to swing open, and the four guys climbed out; and with hands still bound, they bounded across the field and into the upper-middle-class neighbourhood down the hill on the left side of the road.

The clouds above the mountains were slowly beginning to transform from dull grey-white streaks into vibrant flames of pink, orange, and red, as the sun approached the tips of the towering spikes of granite.

So… of the five…

One, is now gone… alone… and followed…

The other four, are a group, off on the run, veiled by the suburbia, roaming the streets of middle-class debtors, hand’s cuffed and “deserving” of imprisonment…

Little do they know, the recent advent of One, roaming the same streets, evading the same government… but where they have circumstance driving them, He, has a reason driving Him…. A motive… His love… justice… and truth.

Ok, so I asked you earlier, to “picture this…”

Abstract picture, ‘eh?

Well, that is it… a picture…
One that doesn’t exist in reality, but did exist, in the minds of five “hot” guys, riding home from a movie earlier today.

There was more about a dress, and about transforming pants utilized in sewer conflict evasion… but that was irrelevant… as the rest seems, and perhaps… actually is…

But it’s a story, accumulated from the random ideas of five movie-stricken minds.

Embellished by one in particular, for literary potency.

Enjoy it if you can… if you want to… and keep praying and never settle, but always be content…

And Keep Smiling, for the right reasons…

God is so good! =)

From “The Five.”

Minus one, in Japan at the moment, which’d have made us six… plus One, Who’s always there, anywhere… which’d have made us seven… prime. But, I guess, God can use less than prime… and He does… still, that doesn’t change what we wish…

Again, enjoy the “picture” the… story.

-MAC < =)

Titleless Poem (like Emily Dickinson’s)

(by Michael)

There once was an old man,
Tender and grey,
Who looked out his window
One cold winter’s day,

His old eyes were open
Not looking around.
Beside his squeaky rocking chair
Nothing made a sound,

As he sat there rocking,
He remembered days gone by.
Suddenly the rocking stopped
And a tear formed in his eye.

The old man’s face grew tired
As he remembered his past pain.
The feelings from that awful day,
Like an old knife wound they came.

As the tear ran slowly down
The tired man’s dear face
He remembered her love and tenderness
And the warmth of her embrace.

Once he had started rocking again
He asked, “God why did she leave?
Am I to live in agony
Only living to grieve?”

After asking his heart felt question
His tears swelled up once more,
And as he dosed off his glasses
Dropped silently on the floor.

While he slept he dreamt of things
He never thought in this life he’d see.
He saw her face and held her close.
He was a bundle of jubilee.

Laughing a laugh the likes of which
His body had never known,
In his dreams and in her arms
He felt like he was home.

The man’s cat came up purring
Awaking him from sleep.
When the man realized where he was,
It made him begin to weep,

Now a cry of anguish
From losing her again
Filled his little, drafty house
With the sound of immense pain.

How could he bear it,
With dreams such as that,
Who had awakened him?
Oh, that stupid cat.

Had he been close to dying
Was he really almost home
Only to return, to his lonely life
With all the pain which it had known?

With a bitter heart he sat there
Wishing it were not so.
Why was she the one taken
Could he not also go?

With these thoughts he fell yet again
Into an uneasy sleep,
But the dream he dreamt this time ‘round
Was truly an occasion to weep.

For all around him were thousands
Wailing and shouting in pain.
The sound was the same as that
Which from himself once came.

But there was no end to their weeping.
No silence was ever found.
In his dream he found himself weeping
As he fell to the cold hard ground.

When suddenly he looked up
And there before his eyes
The darkness broke, the wailing ceased,
As he beheld the blazing skies.

From within the fiery sight
A figure familiar and strong
Held out its hand and helped him up
While singing a strange new song.

What a song, a wild, beautiful song,
The sweetest ever heard,
And as it faded, and the brightness waned,
He softly heard these words,

“Son, why do you grieve?
When so long ago
I chose the time
For her to go.

She is with me.
I’ll never leave you.
I’ve told you as much,
And I know you knew.

My child, do not greive.
Your time has been set,
But it cannot be now.
Trust me, not yet.”

And as he awoke
Before dreaming more
Two Jehovah’s Witness’
Approached his old wooden door.

Looking toward heaven
He whispered now silently,
“Ah, yes, dear Lord,
I think… yes, now I think I see.”