Long Time No See...

For anyone who still checks this blog, I now blog my thoughts in poetry over here at
Telling The Truth Is A Revolutionary Act.
And you can check out my photography over here at Talia Photography.
I'm not going to shut this down, because there's a lot of my history in this blog, but please feel free to follow me over on my other blogs. :)

when a bike is stolen a fairy dies

when a bike is stolen a fairy dies
Originally uploaded by knautia

I thought this was genius and hilarious. :D

So...I have a photography blog now...if anyone's interested, haha :)
I don't do photoshoots too often for lack of an SLR, but i'll be posting any photoshoots i do. :)
<3

Talia Photography

I was looking at my picture from Journalism Camp in 06 and i thought i'd post some that still amuse me. :D

Haha, and not from Journalism camp, me at 15 or 16 in my Elf robe.

I was reading a bit of the book A Severe Mercy by Sheldon VanAuken this weekend, and i was struck by the description in these paragraphs. I know I've felt like this before. :)

" His bed had been drawn up to the east window where he could see the moonrise over the orchard and sometimes be wakened by the dawn. Across a short stretch of lawn to the north was the giant beech at the edge of the wood. At night when he went to sleep, often with his pillow on the window-sill. His last sight of the world would be the dark trees and the bright stars overhead. What was the line? 'We have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.' A thousand times he had imagined himself a small animal, like Mole or Rat, stealing to the edge of that familiar, friendly wood and peering out of the sheltering shadows. No, he thought, for anyone brought up like that, the woods and the night would hold no terror, only safety.

And of course beauty: the beauty that was for him the link between the ships and the woods and the poems. He remembered as though it were but a few days ago that winter night, himself too young even to know the meaing of beauty, when he had looked up at a delicate tracery of bare black branches against the icy glittering stars: suddenly something that was, all at once, pain and longing and adoring had welled up in him, almost choking him. He had wanted to tell someone, but he had no words, inarticulate in the pain and glory. It was long afterwards that he realised that it had been his first aesthetic experience. that nameless something that had stopped his heart was Beauty. Even now, for him, 'bare branches against the stars' was a synonym for beauty."

God has made so much beauty in this world, and then given us a capacity to enjoy it...how crazy is that?

The one we've waited for

The Well - Pedro The Lion


if you could really see
then you would ask of me
she knew the well was far too deep for him to wet his lips
but something told her that he spoke of so much more than all of this
if you could really see
then you would ask of me
when he spoke, she wanted to believe the things he said
but who could this man be that she might never thirst again

her heart raced
could he be the one we've waited for
the one we've waited for

2 new poems

I wrote 2 new poems this weekend. :) I hope they are enjoyed. :)

The Cult of the Facade

garish faces, gaudy clothes
dance along this running road
hide the truth and steal the soul
never let the colours show

cloaked and bloodied, knees unbent
all evade all element
never ask "is there a god"
in this cult of the facade

break it down and throw aside
all with which we try to hide
showing colours bleeding through
winning souls with what is true


Cars

spinning down the highway
purpose set in lines
captured in these massive beasts
roaring steel and light

each a single cosmos
holding in a world
speeding past the other ones
traffic's milling swirl

momentary eyes meet
worlds pause to a halt
questions start to race in minds
then we carry on




So I like the first one the best, but let me know what you think! :)

Little Brother

Jesus, remember the little girl who asked you to keep all your children from harm.
Well, I found out my mother doesn't want my baby brother.
At least, I'm hoping it's a boy; you see, he's not been born.
Please don't let them hurt my little brother.
He should have a chance to run and play.
He's too small to talk, so Jesus I am asking for him.
Please don't let them take his life away.
Tonight, when Mommy went to bed,
I turned and laid my head down on her and I think I felt a move.
So I just cried and whispered, "Baby this is your big sister.
And I pray with all my hear that you will live."
Jesus, please don't let them hurt my little brother.
He should have a chance to run and play.
Let him see the sunshine, let him know a mother's love.
Don't let them take his life away.
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the unborn children you will keep.
But if they should die before they're born,
I pray you'll take them in your arms.
Jesus, please protect the little unborn children.
They have every right to run and play.
But they're too small to talk, so Jesus we are asking for them.
Let them live to see the light of day.
Please protect the little unborn children.
They have every right to run and play.
But they're too small to talk, so we are asking for them.
Let them live to see the light of day.
Jesus, keep my brother safe, I pray.
© 1988 Judy Rogers

Are we only human when we can speak for ourselves?
A rapper, Nick Cannon, has the video at the bottom of this post, it's such a beautiful story.
God has a way of healing situations that look impossible to the human eye, even for those who aren't saved. His mercy is great. And He can heal so much.

Awesome Passage

Rom 9:16-24 So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy.
For the Scripture says to Pharaoh, "For this very purpose I have raised you up, that I might show my power in you, and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth." So then he has mercy on whomever he wills, and he hardens whomever he wills. You will say to me then, "Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?" But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, "Why have you made me like this?" Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honored use and another for dishonorable use? What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction, in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory even us whom he has called, not from the Jews only but also from the Gentiles?

All glory goes to God