Poetry

Blood Stains

Swallowing the last gulps
he set down the now empty can.
Balanced precariously on the corner
of the old dark coffee table.
There was the hoped for solace
that drink normally brought.
This night it evaded him,
drifting away on the wind.
The exhaustion remained
as the eternal night dragged on.
And sleep resided on some
far away distant shore.
The silent darkness of a house
that used to be called a home.
Persistent voices screamed loudly
driving him into the black of night.
He stood next to the tree
barefoot in the cold grass.
Houses dark lined the street
the world asleep in peace.
His right hand on the baseball bat
as if an old man in need of a cane.
Thought of why flashed in his mind
and were just as quickly gone.
This bat she had placed near
the front door in case of need.
A weapon close at hand she argued
just felt comforting and right.
Holding the handle with both hands
enjoying the feel of the wood.
Fingers curled around the handle
as he felt the violence rise within.
His heart beat loud in his ears
blood coursing through his veins.
Surges of energy careened in his body
his muscles tensing in silent expectation.
The world slowly faded from view
and before him stood only the tree.
The trunk stretched upwards yet anchored
by roots hidden deep in the ground.
Branches of leaves alive others dead and dry
stories of a life’s experience and dreams.
Each branch and leaf a turning point
of moments cherished and regretted.
The leaves held tight the emotions
accompanying each memory remembered.
Lifeless branches revealed little
of faded memories over the years.
He stared up into the tree’s canopy
branches morphing into memories of a life.
Built on hope and desire for the future
then wholly lost as fate conspired against.
The frozen silence was then shattered
a loud crack as the bat struck the tree.
He swung the bat over and over
as each memory blazed before his eyes.
The tree quivered so slightly at each blow
strong against the vicious onslaught.
Each swing fueled by grief and rage
over what was lost, never to return.
Memories flashed as the bat sliced the air
until his shoulders began to ache.
The repeating collisions of shame and loss
blows of wood on wood slowly splintered.
Continuing as the fury rose inside
a volcanic eruption long held in check.
From within the depths of the earth
driving him past the limits of exhaustion.
The cascade of blows finally slowed
the strength waned as the bat fell.
Gasping for breath his head down
the bat lay motionless in the grass.
The tree silently mocked his unsuccessful
and feeble efforts at destruction.
He fell to his knees in despair
before resting his back against the tree.
The trunk had willingly absorbed the blows
of the merciless rage and anguished attack.
He sat quietly through the night
a husk of a body physically shattered.
Fatigue blunted the throbbing pain
a small respite from the voices.
The sun soon began its ascent
as light crawled out of the dark.
Revealing the dawn of a new day
he sighed and moved so slightly.
Shoulders throbbed, hands and fingers
stiff and aching clenched in claws.
His mind and heart laid naked
to nonsense questions with no answers.
The mornings light grew brighter
unhindered by a sorrowful heart.
Looking down at his stained hands
covered in murky crimson of dried blood.
Staring he heard the angels whisper
of innocent blood that was once shed.
The ultimate sacrifice long ago
to revive the crushed hopes of man.
A small smile played on lips as he raised
his face to the warm glory of the rising sun.blood-stains

~Mark Schutter ©2016

*This was originally written as a short story or flash fiction if you will in October 2011 and I have revised it into a poetry format. Thanks for reading. (The original story can be read on my previous blog > Tree of Memories – Maleko ©October 2011) 

Art, Poetry

Solitude of Night

image

In the solitude of night
as waking dreams linger.
Still cloaked in the promise
of the morning’s first light,
let not the light in you
be darkness.

~Mark Schutter ©2016

#JustBelieve #GraceWins #HopeLives
#LoveChangesPeople #YouMatter

You can, and will, make a difference in the lives of others. What kind of difference will you chose?

Poetry

The Truth about the False Infinite

Iridescent StreamsHow often do we willingly seek the bright shiny objects that seem to lay so innocently in our path? Are these only random inconveniences of life or a devious plan to lead us astray? We are so easily seduced by the things of this world, I know as I have found myself on those paths littered with shiny objects that only serve to distract me from my true calling and purpose.

To quote or paraphrase C.S. Lewis it is ‘the sweet poison of the false infinite’ that lures us temptingly towards always wanting more. I pray that each of us may hear that still small voice that whispers truth to us and we are able to resist the poison that is so sweet and yet promises nothing.

For you, yes you, are meant for so much more than ordinary! Remember, #YouMatter #LoveChangesPeople

God, Poetry

The Conflict with the Beast Within

Wake the BeastWe tiptoe quietly around, afraid to wake the beast
He lies quietly sleeping, his power unreleased
Carefully hidden lying deep in the dark hearts of men
The anointing, a legacy, a dormant strength within
Stand tall
Stand straight
Be bold, be courageous
In moments we quietly shrink, in condemning fear
When the true path quietly lays before us ever so clear
Silently we slink around the throne of our hearts
Forgotten from where our true power comes
Actors bound in chains we forsake our destined parts
Stand tall
Stand straight
Be bold, be courageous
We quietly fear the unrestrained strength
The powerful emotions, the uncontrolled lust
For deep inside the small dark place in our hearts
Is where the beast resides in each of us
Stand tall
Stand straight
Be bold, be courageous
Moments try to define us for a lifetime
Feeling we are left with nothing left to fight
From deep inside out of eternity passed
Into the dark shines the source of all light.
Stand tall
Stand straight
Be bold, be courageous
For in each heart resides this nature
The conflict we all in this life must bear
And yet this which dwells so deep
With love is defeated when we dare

~Mark Schutter ©2016

The passage below was the inspiration for this poem, which talks about the war between good and evil that wages within each of us.

For what I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate. But if I do the very thing I do not want to do, I agree with the Law, confessing that the Law is good. So now, no longer am I the one doing it, but sin which dwells in me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh; for the willing is present in me, but the doing of the good is not. ~Romans 7:15-18 (NASB)

Sin is a deadly beast that resides within each of us. We have the power of Christ and yet, we tiptoe around afraid of sin. We struggle to win the battle within, while the enemy condemns us and we believe his lies. Yet, as Paul writes it is not us, but sin which lives in us that is the problem. We are sons and daughters of the King and we need not fear the beast, but rise up and fight, for God loves and delights in us! Remember “you matter and have been redeemed!”
This post was inspired by Neil Vermillion and written at his urging. Be sure to visit his site for more inspiration and daily prophetic words, you won’t be disappointed.
Poetry

The Dragon

image

never out loud
i learned to scream
only inside my head

gripped by fear
of waking the dragon
that now believed me dead

silently i lay
in the cold and black
feeling terror and dread

dreams of escape
filled the lonely hours
while lying in the demons bed

hope and light
seemed so far away
those words long ago said

destined to live
so i firmly believed
upon this path i now tread

grace and mercy
overwhelm my tired heart
as love crushes the serpents head

~Mark Schutter ©2015

#JustBelieve #GraceWins #HopeLives

Life, Writing

Tell Me Your Name

Tell Me Your NameMy name is Mark Wayne Schutter,
son and prince of the one true God,
loyal servant to the true King, Jesus Christ.
Husband to a beautiful wife,
father to an amazing daughter;
and I will stand against evil
in this life and the next!

π π π π π π π π π π π π π π π π π π π π

I wrote the words above in December of 2004 one month after my daughter was born.  Over ten years later, thank God they are still true even though I often find myself wondering who I am and often in need of a reminder.  Our lives are so much more than what we see, for there is eternity placed in our hearts. Words of truth are so easily stolen, vanishing into the darkness like smoke into the night. Yet, one small light can carve the dark and cast out the doubts, we must see that the light does not go out.

The script is based on the scene from the movie Gladiatorin which Maximus is in the Roman coliseum and turns to address the emperor Commodus when he is asked to tell him his name. Years earlier Commodus had murdered his father Marcus Aurelius and ordered the execution of Maximus and his family, thereby claiming rule of the Roman Empire.  Maximus escaped being killed but was later captured and forced into slavery becoming a gladiator; fighting in the ring for his life to the crowds amusement.

However, when his defining moment arrived he turned, faced the murderer of his family boldly proclaiming who he was.  Through the journey and struggles Maximus never forgot who he was, he knew his name, he knew it with all his heart.  I pray that we all are able to do the same.  How would you answer when asked your name? God Bless! ~M

PS – did you catch the Pi symbol, in honor of Pi Day; 3-14-15? 🙂

God, Life, Poetry

The Imposter

I stare into the mirror and
what do I see looking back at me?
There living inside I see the mysterious eyes,
of the imposter who is me.
The eternal fight rages on,
to be who I was created to be.
The striking war in my brain to just believe.
Could I be more than what I or you see?
I hide and others only see my smiles
and hear the petty laughter.
So all must be well they believe,
not seeing my heart in tatters.
He takes my truth and steals my reality.
He squeezes my heart in hands of cruelty.
He laughs in my face and enjoys my misery.
He tells me lies that cheat my destiny.
I am an unknown imposter
and no one knows.
I am singularly who you want me to be,
and that is all I show.
My life is carefully crafted,
a stage upon which I play.
Only being who they want me to be,
silently screaming behind my mask I stay.
A day will come when it will end,
the day of reckoning will dawn.
Eternity will seek me and I will find,
I gave my life to be the devil’s grotesque pawn.
When so much more was offered,
by the one who is love.
Turning my back on promises,
He silently wept while watching from above.
It is too late to start anew,
and a hope of new life?
To simply begin again casting aside,
the foreign chains of bondage that cause the strife.
The imposter is strong,
he will not let go without a fight.
His grip on me and his will,
can only be broken by love’s outrageous pure light.
I would banish him from the depths,
from the places in my dark heart.
Shining through the cracks is holy light,
that seems is the only place to start.
I will fight this demon,
this alien imposter whose will is to rule.
I will stand firm and unafraid,
for I will no longer be his tool.
I have a destiny and a mission,
a path that has been cleared for me.
I will rise like a phoenix from the ashes,
for I know now the imposter is not me.

~Mark Schutter ©2015

20141020_114642_1Inspired in part by the post The Faceless Man on the Reverie a poetic publication journal.

Art, God, Poetry

Behold, A White Horse

In the quiet before the coming storm,
in the dark before the first light of morn.
Out of the black night they come,
souls for the taking they have won.
From beyond the blood-red moon,
destruction and disease screams a terrifying tune.

Behold, a light-colored steed.
Ridden by death, its only purpose to make souls bleed.
Behold, a dusky charger.
Ridden by judgement, its only purpose to make life harder.
Behold, a scarlet mount.
Ridden by chaos, its only purpose to make nothing count.
Behold, a sallow pony.
Ridden by defeat, its only purpose to make conquest only.

The huntsmen were led by the dragon snake,
who turned the sun to black; its thirst to slake.
Those who were left fled in terror and fear,
a voice speaking of a fortress refuge; so we hear.
He will cover us with His feathers as a shield about us,
His angels will defend the throne; in this we trust.
He sets us on high, because we know His name,
set free by His mercy and kindness; we are never the same.

We call on Him and He will respond in swift deliverance.
He tramples the serpent in a moment of eternal significance.

Behold, a white horse!
Ridden by faith and truth, its only purpose to make all things new.

~Mark Schutter ©2014

(The poem above was inspired by verses from Psalm 91 and Revelation 6 and 19:11 from the bible. On this Halloween night where the veil between worlds may be thin I wished to convey that although there is evil, there is something stronger that wins in the end. This is also poem 31 of 31 for the month of October Poetry Writing Month. It is finished, now onto National Novel Writing Month and 50,000 words. God bless! ~M)