Originals by Alex Tourtillott
Alex Tourtillott
Mon, Dec 29

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driving in the dark. the check your heart light illuminates my dash in red.

restless hands, and this empty road. were all just chasing safety, in our own time, to each man his own..

making the choice to be out of touch, touching the choice’s of life. so delicately as to not shake the very fragile existence of a man inside…

plotting my route, to meet my maker tonight, sometime’s the best way…is to lay down your sword and walk away from the fight. die to self, and let the enemy feel no victory.

wipe away all those phrases of content laced with hollow words.
while the world is busy making its precious vow’s, i’m off to find closure’s grave.

lie to me, look me in the eye; tell me it’s all ok!

rejoice in the tears, your head is in your hands…

all hail the temporary liberty of the “free”

HahAha

when the world caves in, where will they be?

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Alex Tourtillott
Mon, Dec 1

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the universe inside of me.
broken bits of reality.
Selfish thoughts orbit this selfless heart.
This all spelled disaster from the start.
and you know where to find me, in all my insufficiency..
just when we have it all, we never brace for the fall.
people and seasons, variables and reasons.

tears and dreams, we’ll never shed these scars…

or so it seems.

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Alex Tourtillott
Tue, Nov 11

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Trembling ever so softly in the darkest shadow of the room.
Cold and bare, exposed and vulnerable.
Weakened voice, and tired eyes.
Holding those keys so deep inside.
Listen, the afflicted outside your door…
The arsons of change approach once more.
He whispers “mercy” through tears, struggling to see.
Locked in a cage of self, is anyone really free?
They set refining fire to this prison of self.
Dancing under the fear, and over the past, marching through the flames…all crying at last!
Our eyes wide shut, listen now to the hands that speak, as the army of the far from perfect moves forward on its knee’s.
Raise your head high as the darkness flee’s.
Be grace oh my God. Be grace…oh my God.

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Alex Tourtillott
Fri, Oct 10

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So there’s this man I know of.

He’s a long haired homeless man, a middle-eastern Jew actually, didn’t speak English. Walked around in sandals and…didn’t bathe regularly. He hung out with rebels, crook’s…and prostitutes. Was born in a barn of young unmarried women. He ate most times while lying on the floor, and most authority figures called him a liar and wished he was dead.

He told stories and talked to strangers he never met before. He traveled and taught, betrayed the laws of his people, made friends with the enemies, and asked strangers to come join him. Told those who followed him that he did not come to bring the “peace” or victory they may have been looking for, but promised them life.

His friends called him Yeshua. He did things never heard or seen before…

This robe wearing middle-eastern man was beat up, spit on and tortured. Eventually he died bloody and naked on a tree for all to see him.

By the way, this man I speak of…is also more commonly known as Jesus Christ.
My messiah of Nazareth.

His body was set in a tomb and left until eventually… he returned home and conquered death itself.

So to all out there hung up on traditional religious status quo. This is my savior, my homeless king with a home for me.

Sent of God, killed by man.

I don’t need a w.w.j.d, I’ll just remember my Yeshua and try to act like he would have…

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Alex Tourtillott
Wed, Sep 17

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I went for a walk in the dark tonight. Listening to the sounds of the city shadowed in it’s soft light. Silent warfare echoing around me. Colliding forces clash as they sound their battle cries. The universe is shaken behind my eyes. The stars quietly begin to fall as my eyes open, lifting my head to see what’s left and what’s broken.

In the morning I’ll sit upon the ashes of all our empty schemes and selfish plans. With my bloody words in my battered hands. Light one up and watch it burn. Alone I’ll see the sun rise with the smoke, and breathe a sigh of relief.

On this eve of resolution my path points east towards the rising sun. nothing but a hollow vessel in search of what makes him alive. Desire to live, to bring hope and revive. With nothing of value he will press on, to live in the present until the present is gone…

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