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, Poetry

Weather (a haiku)


Blessings and sorrows
Our lives change like the weather
Now and tomorrow

~Mark Schutter ©2014

This post is in response to this weeks prompt on The Reverie to write about the weather.  A thousand ideas have been swirling through my mind like a howling windstorm after reading the prompt and yet this little haiku is all that made any sense on paper. Hey,  sometimes you can over complicate these things so kept it simple! ~M


No Expectations

Standing outside heaven’s curtain
Restless in sight of heavens grasp
In the basement of the dark of night
It is consolation I seek at last

Midst the tumbling tiny sparks of light
I wear my mask, I am cold and alone
No expectations of undeserved grace
Lost in my denial, I’ve lost my soul

Mountains sway underneath my feet
Composed of jittering grains of sand
Fiction writes my final obituary
As I shiver, comforted in loving hands

~Mark Schutter ©2014

This poem was written in response to the Wordle Me This #2 prompt on the Reverie Journal where each word above in bold italics was used from the list.  to be transparent I did leave out two of the words … oh well!

So what do you expect?


Art, God, Poetry

Take Me Down

Whoa, take me down
Into the depths where I might drown
For it is only there can I truly see
The glorious beauty of your majesty
Into the mystic all around
My pounding heartbeat the only sound
Fly away to where we were meant to be
Reveal to us your holy mysteries
Whoa, take me down
Break the chains that keep me bound
I want to live in shameless freedom
From now until your coming kingdom
Life and glory can be found
Let the false intimacy come unwound
Renouncing the enemy’s bastard accusations
Evil fears its pronounced damnation
Whoa, take me down
Exchange my ashes for a beautiful crown
For love and mercy linger in a secret place
Freely given is the unveiled grace

~Mark Schutter ©2014

The poem above is my submission this week to The Reverie Journal based on the Kongos music prompt from Hastywords.  I attempted to write the poem in sync with the rhythm of the chorus from the song, what do you think?. In addition this is poem number 29 of 31 for October Poetry Writing Month.  Thanks for reading! ~M

Life, Poetry

Wake the Beast

We tiptoe quietly around afraid to wake the beast.
He lies quietly sleeping, dozing fitfully his power unreleased.
Carefully hidden deep within the dark hearts of men.
Lies the anointing, the legacy, the dormant strength within.
Stand tall.
Stand straight.
Be bold, be courageous.
In moments before us we quietly shrink,
in unacknowledged fear.

When the path quietly lays before us ever so clear.
Silently we slink around the throne of our hearts.
Forgotten from whence the power comes,
actors playing our parts.
Moments may define us for a lifetime,
we are left with nothing to fight.
From deep inside out of eternity passed,
shines a brilliant white light.
We quietly fear the unrestrained strength,
the powerful emotions, the uncontrolled lust.
For quietly deep inside the small dark place in our hearts,
is where the beast resides in each of us.

~Mark Schutter ©2014

wpid-image_13.jpgThis is poem is my submission this week to The Reverie Journal based on the prompt of a “Quiet Journey”, in which I came up with the last line first and then went back and wrote the rest using the word ‘quietly’ repeatedly.  In addition this is poem number 23 of 31 for October Poetry Writing Month, #OctPoWriMo.  Thanks for reading! ~M

Art, Life, Poetry

I Lay Down My Many Burdens

Drained to my very inner core,
right through to the marrow of my bones.
Hiding behind the misinterpreted,
under the cover of the forced smiles.
The spirit is always fickle at best,
caught in the undercurrents swirl.
A single act or glance is all it takes,
to infect the blessed bloody whole.
A solitary lonely sparrow fly’s so high,
against a backdrop of endless blue.
The ancient songs are still sung,
while lives are forever lost for a lack.
From the womb screaming we came,
the only time without a care or stain.
The ritual of life is endless monotony,
we are destined to dance forever more.
Round and round like spinning tops,
searching for a more holistic approach.
We have drunk the kool-aid once more,
the sweet nectar of the false infinite.
Is it time for a long quiet hibernation,
as now I lay down my many burdens.

~Mark Schutter ©2014

This was written in a free-write frenzy following a long 4 days of a training event that I and my staff organized for over 150 employees.  Not sure where I was going with this other than dealing with the enormity of the life experience and I am very tired even as I write these words.  This is poem 17 of 31 for October Poetry Writing Month, #OctPoWriMo, and a submission to the prompt supplied by The Reverie Journal to use the words above in italicized maroon, a wordle poem if you will.

Art, Poetry

A Beautiful Dance


It was a beautiful song,
that unexpectedly came along.

A jagged knife in his heart;
is where the end all starts.
The ache inside lingers still;
death is life’s toughest pill.
He willingly drank the warm nectar;
as demons laughed at the specter.
Seeing her lay so still and ashen white;
no breath and eyes void of sight.
Evil giggles and celebrates;
thinking it’s won this round of fate.
He stares in silent misery,
wondering if he, she is able to see.
The razor fangs of fate sunk deep;
taking what he held but could not keep.
Remains the memories of days;
two tortured souls, one could not stay.

It was a beautiful dance,
that all happened by chance.

~Mark Schutter ©2014

(Poem #10 of 31 for #OctPoWriMo, prompted by the song Bones by MSMR posted by Hastywords on The Reverie. )



Hot sand clings to my face
A scorching wind blows unceasingly
As dry as this forgotten land
Dusty and parched
Baked hard by the relentless sun
All green is now brown
No hope, no joy, no promises whispered
Of longed for relief
Overhead a sky of deep forever blue
Beyond the reaches of eternity
Endless dreary monotonous moments
Slowly float by hanging in the air
Void of life where nothing moves
In the arid barren wasteland
The desert seeming stretches forever
Left alone and forsaken I lay
The heat burns my blistered skin
The sun stares down mercilessly
Blinded by the orb’s brightness
My eyes remain tightly closed
From out of nothingness
Where life was once spoken
A single word of devotion
Like sweet honey on my lips
To just believe again grace wins
A melody whispered in my mind
Soothes that ache inside
A balm to my weary heart
As dry land soaks up refreshing rains
I teeter on the edge of eternity



~Mark Schutter ©2014

Doing double duty – Poem #3 for #OctPoWriMo  and a 31 line poem submission for the prompt this week on The Reverie.


Life, Poetry

Comes A Reckoning

Whether she was conceived in love,
or not.
Under the cover of darkness,
or in the light.
Born into untainted innocence,
she still shines.
Like diamonds in the sky.
A candle lit for all to see,
lighting a path for others into tomorrow.
She grows more beautiful,
as times slowly goes by.
The world is full of adventure to explore,
and the innocence remains.
But sinister evil lurks,
behind lurid smiles.
Hiding dark thoughts and twisted desires.
They seek to take what is not theirs,
a gift that was hers only to one day freely give.
The winds howl and thunder rolls,
as she screams, “NO!”
Through the pounding beats of her shattered heart.
Within her mind he will now forever reside,
banging a drum for all time.
He took from her only what he desired.
Using and abusing he carelessly left behind
only a scarred shell.
The dark velvet of trickery and deceit,
silenced her screams.
He easily snuffed out her candle’s flame,
in a moment of his twisted glee.
Is she forever lost and fallen,
an angel with no wings.
For somewhere deep within she hides
from so many other things.
Her heart has melted into a pool,
like a candles puddled wax.
He took something she can never get back.
My father’s heart breaks as I look into her eyes.
The pain, the sorrow, where the only the haunting,
now resides.
To protect at all costs and shield her from the
misery and pain is my mission.
I will kill and destroy those who come,
to take from her only what they desire.
These are the hard hands that softly picked her up
when she fell.
These same hands that gently cradled her
to ease her pain.
Comes a reckoning with these same
hard hands, and you only have yourself to blame.

~Mark Schutter ©2014

This poem was written in response to the prompt to write About the Social Change You Want to See posted by Tamara Woods on The Reverie, a poetic publication journal. Whether it is child sex trafficking, child sexual abuse or rape; as a father and a man it sickens my stomach. This is pure evil that perverts what is pure for its own twisted desires. It exists in the world and it is up to us to be vigilant and to do what we can to protect and help the innocent.

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil
is for good men to do nothing.
~Edmund Burke