Contemplating my InnerSelf

Hi Folks!

If you are one of my reader or just a passerby,Thanks for visiting. Work has been keeping me busy all this time.My dad once told , sometime after finishing college "Wherever you work , Whatever you do your Owner should always be profitable"
Lately i think i shouldn't have taken my old man that seriously.

If you have read my blogs and felt that they are very cryptic.I completely understand.
My blogs are emotions captured on the fly in some piece of paper and latter stitched together.Of course,Some of them where written during boring classroom lectures.I'm sure some of what i write does not Cook chicken soup for anybody's soul.

So whats up why are you blogging today?,Yeah...i can hear that.I realized certain things today.I'm enlightened in the non spiritual sense, on what this world perceives as appreciation and acknowledgment.Would like to start writing again based on the experience from the real world.


Michel H Ashton

Ode on a Maundy

‘Tis my ode on a Maundy Thursday,
Willful sinner throughout the day,
Been in a spree since your grace is free,
This ain’t innocence but all my arrogance.

A den of iniquity is within me,
Any crowd will never see,
Covering it all is a church face,
And bumper stickers to showoff thy seal.

Nay conviction in any direction,
Nay care for what the synoptic say,
Each time I pick my rags and walk away;
Ditching promises for every mile on the way.

Being the thorn on thy crown,
Thy sweat and blood for my every scorn,
Nails of thy love, holding the flesh,
I am the reason for every soldier’s thresh.

Down this earth, to climb up that hill,
Heaven’s did stand to watch this still.
Cross is all I give when you still love me,
Thou hath played my part in that scene.

to be continued......



Michel .H. Ashton

Verses from the Ridge

Behind the beyond obviousness of me,lost in these woods
The path I walked toldeth me not, the place it’s took.
Sitting at the edge of a ridge, overlooking this vale,
The lush green and fading light on the cliff other side,
Desperate for this moment, for a long time now,
If this earthly rubble looketh like paradise divine;
Mere words wouldn’t embrace thy everlasting home.
Felt not a clam; a calm so personal and deep.
This swift rift from those silent crowds,
Bringeth in me, a long lost stillness.
I fear lord; this silence engulfeth me.
My bad reputation lord; none believeth, I've spelt these words.
All I want to see; a decent melody out of my shattered certainties.
Gather my pieces Lord, and make me thy favorite pot,
Bleak tho` me, again in this place to grab 'tis essence.
Grant me lord; take this silence to my noisy loneliness.
I'd Asketh not for a halo lord ,but this joy for ever as this day.
Revealeth not my eternal blueprint ,mad will i be pondering over it.
Lost myself in dignity of this place
Time to move on, and face the realities of this world,
I take with me the assurance of thy mercy, peace ,and grace.



Michel .H. Ashton

So called Sonnet

If i were given a chance to go back in time and clean up my mess

I would have left the cleft ,
slept the upsets ,
define the word "fine" ,
redefine "mine",
use a better shoeshine,
magnify lost opportunities,
fortify those second glances,
draw the line ,
kick out the guilt,
workout a better built,
get all "A"s for a better GPA.
shout from steeples " i love you ",
instead of just a " thank you ".
tell the world , it's always unfair.



Michel .H. Ashton

Prayer at The Cornerstone

Rabbi, Rabbi...O! Rabbi
I’ve been too busy with my own situation,
Lost in my own kind of ways,
Want to say a lot of things from my aloof past,
Let’s walk, let’s talk and let’s talk the walk.
Came here with my broken pot, It fell spectators surround
I’ve gathered and glued my pieces,
Cracks still seen with glue stain around,
Don’t let my face, anew hit any ground,
I’ve lost the worth to hold a crop.
Inscribe my pot with all thy thought
As yet orphaned but not an orphan
Lost my way to find thy way
Lest your fear, for any fear
Remove my rear view mirror
Hold my hand, a feeble hand
Through all the deserted strand
Give me troubles and a push to carry on
Forgive those wasted altar calls
In negative towards my negativity
I’ve Clenched in heart, what the cross couldn’t hold
And the tomb wouldn’t contain
This is my last verse. Amen.

*i told myself never to write again




Michel .H. Ashton

Road to River life

Counting the pebbles, standing by the moss,
Fresh water stream and the early morning gloss,
Never ending ripples; “Solace”, It said.
Then I knew, I was young and innocent,
Growing up, I ferried in this never ending stream,
Boulders did I bump; not a good feel;
Bruised my face but relished that pain,
Knew it hurts but the thrill was fun,
Love did hurt; sat down took stock and kept floating on,
Toppled in the middle spectators surround,
None to stop and none to lift,
Those shallow waters taught me a lot,
Everything out there deep seated hostility.
My begetters knew not, me ferrying out here
Still wearing smile but shattered inside
Stream sang into this river; desolate was I;
A point it reached not far from then;
If life this way, I’ll have no life;
After all this time and all this work,
I suddenly had this feeling that,
None of this is in my hand.
And if it isn’t if it isn’t, what should I do with that?
Loosing track in time, yonder I saw this old friend of mine
Saying,”thou on my mercy seat”
A union station for a wreck like me
Undocumented changes for quiet some time,
This truce with god hurts a lot,
Will endure it; with all my heart.



Michel .H. Ashton

Incomplete...

Directions in darkness, Heights of desperation,
Boulevard of dreams and bleak prospective,
An Oliver twists, all this time.

Words not from an emotional tide,
Nor hangover from smoking pod,
Trenched it all, till this time.

Heaps of thoughts, word to confess,
Lone in this shack; me and my words,
Bared it inside, until this time.

Un-forgiven me, mediocre myself,
Pat on my back not on thy forehead.
Stranger at my own gate, till this time.

Stuck in this maze, get me out of this haze,
Said this to none; dread to face that storm.
Little-known purposes to drive my time.

Hope is not a plan, yet one hope to cope it all,
Less than perfect; the perfect imperfection,
Doubt it all in a line, Am I the incomplete?

Michel .H. Ashton

My first blog

To God Be the Glory

God all i want is words


Thank you Jane Joy