Angles.

You are the apple of my eye, the object of my affection.

I could toss around a million different cliches that all say the same thing:

You have my attention.

Forgive me miss, if I use cheesy lines, that is not my intention

It is only my attempt to look at you through God's eyes.

And now you've probably heard it all before, but never like this, I don't think.

I don't say these things for any other reason that to make you feel beautiful like you should.

This is not an attempt to get in those pants, or for any time of selfish desire.

For you are God's creation, and to do any of that would be to stamp the word "object" all over your portrait.

I am trying my hardest to understand the way that you function,

for when I told you I loved you i meant it with all that was in me.

You aren't some piece of me for me to fantasize about.

You are and individual with a heart and soul.

Your blood runs through veins that are similar to mine.

Your heart beats like mine but in a different time

and I never want to break that fragile heart of yours, no matter how much you doubt the truth of my words.

This is my honest attempt to love you. This won't be my last attempt to love you.

I know it sounds a little creepy, but I will never stop loving you

and you can take that as it is or try and love me too.

I wish to speak your language of love so I could better show you.

Your language of love is my love language too.

This is agape at its finest, second only to Jesus in the Gospels.

It still hurts when you don't see it, don't lean in ant try to feel if it is real,

but I love you still, despite the hurt, and so I will say again:

There is nothing you can do to look any less beautiful or be any less loved.

There is nothing you can do to look any less beautiful or be any less loved.

I'm only trying to see you from the angle that my Father does

Remember

I took this from the To Write Love On Her Arms Myspace blog. It is a reminder that this three day weekend is more than fun, more than a break. It is a reminder to remember that there are things we cannot perceive until we've been there, and that people see these sights everyday. Remember our soldiers, our family, our friends, our neighbors.

Take some time this weekend to remember.

War is a very real thing.

If you feel free or safe tonight, know that it has come and continues to come at the highest cost.

Soldiers are people - they are us - and many have given their lives for our freedom and security.

This is not about politics. This is about people.

The ones that live, can we even imagine what they've experienced, what they've seen and felt and lost?

What does it mean to "go back to normal"?

How do they recover? How do they "let it go"?

This weekend, let's do better than "i don't have to go to work on Monday". Let's look beyond "Oh cool, a three-day weekend."

Take some time to consider the soldiers. The people.

Sons and daughters, brothers and husbands and wives. Someone's father or mother. Someone's uncle. Cousin. Neighbor. Friend.

They are the fallen and the fighting and the ones forever trying to make sense of "home". They are missed by millions.

Have a conversation. Say "thank you". Ask a question.

The day is meant for remembering. Not just the deaths but the lives and the living.

We live in a day with more distractions than ever before. More excuses. We make an enormous mistake if we fail to honor these people, if we fail to pause to consider and be grateful and be kind.

Take some time this weekend to remember. Remember someone you've lost. Remember all the different soldiers. Remember the things that matter and the things that are true.

Peace to you.
jamie"

Levi The Poet

"in

fact I'm a little scared sometimes that this is all in vain,

with a million little

mes running all over eternity it's no wonder my hope has such a bad name!

But I know, no matter how large a hypocrite, or how small my faith,

When you began to talk about perfection the way you talk about my pain

You became the seed inside that gave root to change!

And I pray every day that there is power in prayer,

And I hope with all my heart that my heart will find you there,

And if you're really bigger than my skepticism

Then how dare I compare the high I prescribe with the beauty you prepare?

I am a skeleton in a little fragile skin

But one soul could raise me up from this grave!

I am a

skeleton in a little fragile skin, oh, the end is heaven

and I want to be saved!

I am a skeleton in a little fragile skin,

It's so simple to give in

again and again,

I am a skeleton in a little fragile skin,

If you're really up there in those clouds then

Could you set me free from my…

SIN?"

-Oh Captain, My Captain

Levi The Poet

www.myspace.com/levithepoet

Updates

So I haven't updated this thing in almost two weeks. Many of you readers may know, but I have started a Music Myspace for my "spoken word" stuff, but there will most likely be other recordings up there. www.myspace.com/dannysugimotospoken

I've been on summer break for a week now, and it's really weird. When you live in community with 70 close friends, and then you move to a town that you hate and would probably leave if it weren't for the few friends you have remaining and your church, life takes an awkward turn that needs a full transition. Sometimes I feel crazy, but I would rather live at my school all year than be in Sacramento.

I am currently in the planning process of a trip to Washington, D.C. with a good friend of mine. The trip is for Lobby Days, which is an event hosted by Invisible Children. Back on April 25, in 100 cities around the world, Invisible Children asked people to abduct themselves and stand in solidarity with the 30,000 child soldiers that have been abducted in the night to fight in Africa's longest war. Lobby Days is how the event will end. Find out more at howitends.tv I am hoping to go with my friend, so your thoughts and prayers and maybe even your money would help in the most outstanding way. I am not sure how I am going to raise enough money for this trip.

So that is my life thus far.

See you later.

Dear God.

Dear God,I think you’ve got this love thing all wrong

I read somewhere that the greatest love is to die for your brother

And that we should love our neighbors

And our enemies

But I think you must have omitted something from your great commission

How I am supposed to love my neighbor when they plot against me?

And my enemies constantly threaten kill or killed be

Yet you tell me that I am to love them.

And then you said that you yourself were love

And that I just don’t understand

It’s not that it’s too vague or anything

It just can’t be real

Because where were you in all the times I found love and needed love?

I didn’t see you last night when my girlfriend and I were making it

And I didn’t see you 6 years ago with that picture on the screen

That would take everything that I have ever achieved

And break it down right in front of me

So that for 6, sick years I thought I knew what pleasure was.

Where were you then God?

And Where were you when my mother died?

And the breath in her chest was finally at rest

That was when I did my best to search for you

From the top of my head to the sole of my shoe

I searched the walls of my closest and you still weren’t there

And so I sat alone in the dark until something came that cared

Now the infectious disease has taken over my body

The body you have made and I still can’t even feel you

So I think you were wrong about this whole love thing

Because if you really loved me you’d be here

By my side taking care of me

And all of the hurts that I hold inside

Dear God, I think you’re a liar

Amen

Change

Excuse me, but I haven't been very honest lately

I keep telling humanity that I want to change the world,

but I have yet to do so

because I have this beau in my eye that lets me know

when it is time and right now is not the time

so I'm thinking that these thoughts in my mind should just subside.

But a great man once said, "Be the change you want to be in the world."

As in, "Change yourself, then show them the way."

But internally I haven't felt very changed.

I haven't been playing my part in this production

I speak for love and affection

but I act with harsh words and vague representations

of things that are actually not that hard to represent.

My mind is being logical but my body is sentimental.

"I am just a man with a heart and sinful hands"

but I won't play the victim.

I am the culprit.

I am made of concrete and shall not be moved.

My body has taken shape and this is all you have left of me

and the heart in me is one full of malice and greed,

an amount that no eye has ever seen. But my God,

He says He knows the plans that He has made for me.

Plans to grow me up and make me strong

but why do I feel weak and full of doubt if these where the plans all along?

"The plays the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king."

We all have parts to play, but

have we studied our lines?

Finals

Hello? Hello?

Operator?

Can you please tell me if anyone is listening to my thoughts?

I bleed myself dry upon this computer screen

that seems to laugh as the scene of liquid and bodily fluid

spills over and under my lifeless body.

The words that I write will be quickly forgotten by my peers.

The pages that I've used will be lost in a few years.

Yet, the memory of these long nights of struggle

will stay imprinted in my mind until I am buried six feet under.

The purpose of this nightmare is to satisfy my parents.

To allow the pressure that they place upon me to reign true.

But I am full of falsities and the blasphemous thoughts that are due.

The battery is draining and I am searching for some sort of charge.

Some source of energy that will soothe my nervousness and fear.

They will never understand what devours from the inside

because the heart is never strong enough to speak

when the time necessitates it.

It is not bold enough to protect itself when morality is blurred.

I am dry of bodily fluids

and this room is painted red with guilt.