Exciting New Announcement!!!

Guess what?! Peter and I are launching a new blog, called Awkward Truth. It’ll have all the content that was on Miznos, only more. Plus, a larger emphasis on guest posts and a clearer purpose.

With Awkward Truth we want to focus on discovering God’s absolute truth in His relational and natural creation, even and especially when it’s awkward.

But before we launch we need your help.

We’ve created a two-question survey. Your answers will shape the direction of this new project.

Will you take a few minutes to:

1. Complete the survey yourself
2. Forward this email to anyone you think might be interested

Here’s the link to the survey:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/Z53QKJP

Thank you so much for your support!

In Christ,
Jason and Peter

P.S. If you choose to subscribe for emails about the relaunch and are already subscribed to Miznos, you will be automatically taken off your Miznos subscription. Don’t be alarmed! You’ll still get notified about our most recent posts etc. except through our all-new Awkward Truth email list!

Prince of Spring

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Darkness shrouds this cold morning of unknown.
Nature surrounds me like a dear friend’s arms;
He tells me that all is not the same.
“You must hold on tight for the coming wild ride,” he says.
Sometimes I feel at one with the changing tide.

The icy breath nips at my nose.
It whispers of love and hope and dreams,
Shooing away the ice like a sip of warm cream.
Change is coming quick in this soul;
The evidence is all around me, I feel it strong.
Dirt beneath me shifts and groans.
A bright green shoot pops out of the ground;
Red petals bloom from the sprout,
Bold, natural, gorgeous–
But soon will be plucked and will die;
It was too young to survive.

I find myself walking on the late ice of social interaction;
The surface is frozen and smooth; which way should I move?
Their eyes follow me with every step.
I could say something wrong, so I don’t make a sound.
The laughs echo around and shatter the ground;
I fall through and plunge into the icy depths beneath.
I scream at myself for being so strange,
For holding onto my identity as Unfinished.

There is always that scared, little boy inside.
He hates talking to people but also the loneliness.
He hides behind his big strong dad and stays silent.
Spring hides behind the forces of Winter;
Too shy to come out sooner.

I could sit alone for hours in the Springtime,
Because I can learn so much from him.
Adapting; from Winter to Summer.
Rain spatters the fresh dirt, churns and mixes.
Perhaps the cold will roll in and bring flakes of snow,
To wipe out what was coming to life!

I cannot see the future picture of loveliness;
The mighty forces of Summertime,
Sweeping heat and refreshing breeze.
There is greener grass on the other side– of the year.
The times when the Sun shines over the dead,
The Son shining across the troubled children and men;
Bringing life back to what once was fallen.
Darkness shrouds this cold morning of unknown.

Sunshine Blogger Award

Hey guys, happy Tuesday!

Recently there have been these neat blogging “awards” going around in the community. The purpose of these “awards” is to build relationships between bloggers and to bring awareness to other blogs that you find awesome.

We were nominated for the Leibster Blog Award a while back, and that was a ton of fun. Now, Gabrielle from Redeeming the Times has nominated us for the Sunshine Blogger award!

Gabrielle had a set of twelve questions for us, and we have ten for the bloggers that we nominate.

Here are the questions! (Obviously, the J’s are for Jason, and P’s are for Peter on our answers).

Why did you start blogging?

J: I started blogging when I was about thirteen because I wanted to have a public portfolio of my writing. I thought it would be cool to have a collection of my writing in one place, where we people could read it and be encouraged. And encourage me with it. Now, I mostly blog to be able to share how I feel with others. It’s funny how Miznos has almost become a public expression of my friendship with Peter.

P: Blogging was kind of at the back of my mind when I started writing seriously. I told myself that I would need to start a blog sometime, but was reluctant to try to start one due to the number of things I thought I needed to do. Luckily (more like Divinely), my friend Jason was also trying to write more consistently on his own blog but needed some help with the project he was working on. I’ve been Co-Author of Miznos ever since, and have had a blast.

What three books would you recommend for others to read?

J: Well other than the Bible, some books I would suggest to read are Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis, and A Praying Life by Paul E. Miller. Fahrenheit 451 is a very insightful dystopian story about meaning and purpose. I thought it was both a really good reflection of the purposelessness we have without God as well as a reflection of what our culture has become through addiction to technology and distraction. Also, the descriptions are beast! I would suggest The Four Loves not because I agree with everything but because it covers some topics we should think more about in a helpful, prodding way, which really forced me to think. Finally, A Praying Life is amazing!!! It really lit up my prayer life and was super balanced and helpful. Everyone should read it!

P: This is one of those questions that any writer should just have an automatic answer for, you get asked it so many times. My recommendations are going to mostly consist of fiction pieces since that’s what I read. I would definitely recommend Ranger’s Apprentice: Ruins of Gorlan by John Flannagan. It’s a classic for me with a timeless lore that I can fall in love with over and over again. Another good one is Thr3e by Ted Dekker, it has an amazing storyline as a thriller that I did not expect at all. My final choice would be 12 Ways Your Phone is Changing You by Tony Reinke. I’m actually in the midst of reading this, but it has still impacted me deeply so far.

What’s one of your favorite scriptures? Why?

J: I love the end of John 21, where Jesus is calling Peter back to Himself. It reminds me that even when we deny Christ, He remains faithful to us. It is His faithfulness that makes it possible for us to follow Him!

P: A new favorite of mine is Psalm 37:4, “Delight yourself also in the Lord, And He shall give you the desires of your heart.” This scripture holds an amazing promise of ultimate joy and contentment in Christ, while also reassuring us that God cares about our passions.

Name one or two things you’re passionate about.

J: I am passionate about helping people to understand each other. When my friends or family have a disagreement, I feel like I am called to bring resolution to the conflict and help to bring mutual understanding.

P: Honestly, I’m passionate about seeing a new revival of just, general chivalry in the young men of America. We have not been taking up the mantle of leader of the house that God created us to have. Disrespecting women has gotten us into a terrible place, and the consequence of that is hatred and prejudice concerning race and gender

Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

J: Dark chocolate all the way!

P: Dark chocolate 100%. The more cacao, the better. If there’s mint involved, I’m a lost cause.

If money wasn’t an issue, where would you go on vacation?

J: Australia. I want to go scuba-diving in the Great Barrier Reef, see koalas and bilbies, and get an awesome Australian accent!

P: Somewhere with a beach and sun. Probably one of the islands in the Mediterranean off the coast of Italy. I’m heavily Italian, and I can’t resist true pasta.

What’s your favorite way to de-stress?

J: I like to get all of my thoughts and feelings out on a page, usually as poetry, and read and re-read what I’ve written several times until I feel like I get it out of my system.

P: Listening to music and writing heartfelt poetry that no one will probably ever see. I also enjoy going for a long run where I can contemplate life’s mysteries.

Name a favorite fictitious character.

J: Arwen Undómiel from the Lord of the Rings.

P: Martin the Warrior from the Redwall series.

What are three things you love to do?

J: I feel like I should just say listening to music three times, but I’m not going to so. . . I like talking to my friends in late hours of the night, usually keeping them up while I ramble on about random stuff. I also love dancing. And of course, listening to music, especially Twenty-one-pilots, Hollyn, NF, and more recently, Ivan B!

P: Generally, I love to spend time outside in nature. More specifically, I like to practice with my recurve and compound bow, go running, and dancing until my legs hurt!

If you could choose a person to meet, who would it be?

J: Other than Jesus, I would like to meet my future self. It would be really cool to know what I would be like in a few years. I feel like I’ll change a lot in the next few years (going to college now), and I’m excited/nervous to find out who I’ll become.

P: It really depends on if they’re still alive or not. If they’re not alive anymore, then my great-grandpa I never met. Still alive, I would have to choose Tyler Joseph from Twenty One Pilots.

What’s a sport you wish you could play?

J: I’d have to say football, not so much for the sport, but just because it would be really awesome to be that tall. Lol. Also, gymnastics would be pretty cool.

P: I’ve tried to play a few sports, and wasn’t very good at them. I guess some sort of contact sport would be my choice. Boxing, MMA, maybe Taekwondo?

Hugs or just a good high five?

J: Definitely depends on the moment and situation.

P: I love to give people hugs, it really depends on the person. Sometimes it would just be weird.

Before I get into the nominees, I feel like I should let them know that they are under no time frame at all. They can take as long as they want, or not participate at all if they are super busy. No pressure! I’m going to have to put on my suit and tie for this part. And the nominees are…

Zach Phillips from Zachphillip.com
Anna Peters from Northern Hearts Alaska
Haddassah from Perfectly Loved by Jesus
Alathia from Bliss
Michael Goddard II from Obey God, Reach Others
Our questions for all you amazing people.

1.What’s your favorite obscure crayon color?
2.Have you ever laughed at the wrong moment?
3.Do you have any unique skills or weird talents?
4.Which is more satisfying: when you perfectly fill a page with words or the feeling of a pen against paper?
5.In your opinion, which sport is the most pointless?
6.If you could be anyone (other than yourself) for one day who would it be?
7.What is the least favorite post you’ve written on your blog?
8.What is the awkwardest thing you’ve ever said?
9.What fictional character from LOTR do you get the most frustrated at? Why?
10.What’s your favorite book of the Bible? Why?

Have a wonderful day, and enjoy every moment of God’s beautiful creation!

-Peter Rogati III (Pedro)

Power Corrupts

You want to change the world, but the world is changing you.
And the scariest part is you think you’re the same—
That you’ll never change.
Just got famous so you could be listened to.

And the scariest part is maybe you’re right.
Maybe it’s not changing you.
Cuz you were corrupt to begin with.
Voice for the voiceless, but fans find you easy to sin with.

We are all insecure, broken people.
Cracked skull and soul, spilling blood.
And we try to make art to control it—
A collage made of carnage.

You say you aren’t faking.
But you try to look sexy.
And you tell me your lies.
Look me in the eyes and speak truth. . .

Do you love man more than God?
Do you crave their attention?
Do whatever’s not ‘wrong’?
Call it evangelism. Encouragement.
I don’t. It’s self-nourishment. Idolatry.

I just want to close my ears.
But the issue is it’s inside of me too.
It’s inside of me first.

Visions of lust—
Uncontrolled bitterness.
And self-addiction.
I need you to praise me.
I can’t let go.
All I know is…
I can’t.

The question is can I believe
There was somebody perfect
And it’s not me?
There are hands holding
When I can’t see.

Can I really agree,
More than just intellectually,
That there was only one who could ever change the world?
Lord, you did it perfectly.

Can I use all my broken, twisted emotion—
Slow-motion to point to Him.
Can I give Him all the glory
While I’m still fighting to put away sin?

And for now, I’m partially twisted.
It’s nothing the famous untwist.
But we point each other to you, Lord—
Bear witness.

And where we fail, because we fail, help us remember you again.
And follow no matter what—to death.
Let each and every one of us find you, because we’re seeking.
And if you could just shed a small flare of light on yourself through my art, somehow I think that would be enough.

Is This All We Are?

I feel the familiar pressure move in,
An unwanted embrace of awkwardness that lingers;
Their heated, rancid breath strokes my face;
It reeks of standardized rebellion and petty lies.
The light is dim and faded; they’ll hide here for as long as it takes.
They’ll sit in their holes while the world’s fire rages.
Their empty laughs echo across the sky,
A blissful symphony of unanswered attention.
This is us and we have been spoiled.

We want what we want, and we want it now.
All the pain we face can be blamed on an object.
Technology, religion, free opinion–pick your scapegoat.
Ignore the person behind the black ski-mask;
Secret identities are supposed to remain hidden.
We’re our own superheroes.
Even though we tell ourselves we’re strong,
All there’s left is clothes, hay, and a stick to steady ourselves on
Left to be tossed and thrown by the wind of circumstance.
Life isn’t good when everyone hates us.
Let them oodle and gawk while we giggle and screech;
We don’t see where we’re going but we don’t care.

We like what we like, and we like it now.
Our backs are broken and shattered continually from the weight;
We must be strong for those who are spectating.
Our elders look at us in grief and agony;
They regret how they raised us.
If they could take back those angry, spur of the moment screams,
If they could have listened to us and nurtured our dreams…
They might have, maybe. . .
We blame our ceaseless anger on them.

We hate what we hate, and we hate it now.
It’s their fault that everyone hates us.
Parents, grandparents, teachers, bosses, neighbors, politicians,
Those who have abandoned or fled us.
Did they think they were not good enough for us?
Were they scared of that tiny, dirty baby?
Some of them were deceived and lied to,
Told that there was no life in their wombs.
They didn’t know what to think, and were convinced to cheat.
These are just blobs of cells, not their child they will never meet;
We continue this twisted tradition, live for love and kill the product.

Is everyone just here to watch you fail?
Check your phone again; you’ve got mail!
A message you get every single day–
It haunts your sleep and scares away the sheep.
It reads, “You are the generation of devastation.”
“The world is falling apart and you sit alone;”
“All you care about is opinions and sticks and stones;”
We listen for a second before putting our music back in.
The world tells me to be myself and nothing else.
What if I hate myself and want to change?

I hear You whisper:
“I AM who I AM, and I AM now.”
In the schools and colleges full of desperate youth,
They are taught to deny that I AM is.
We are sculpted to have inquisitive minds and free hearts,
Taught that it is impossible that I AM exists.
An omnipresent being who really loves His creation?
Crazy. Bizzare. Ignorant. Bliss.
We might be Israel in the desert, America in the year of the millenials
But He always was who He always is.

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”–1 Peter 2:9

Sonship

Baby, here in the waning light
I can feel you breathe.
I can feel the feeling of your teardrops stopping when they touch me.
Don’t even realize it’s just in my mind.
When you give me compliments,
I feel more myself.
If I can be enough for you,
Maybe I won’t feel unworthy.

But I still curl up, when you leave, staring at the ceiling wondering what all your words actually mean.
I’m not strong.
And I still feel alone,
Even though you were right here just yesterday.
I know we’re both so broken—
Falling, flattered fragments.
So unfocused.
Breaking, battered bits of black and blue.
The broken can’t heal each other.

I’m screaming.
How can I be a leader,
If I am not first led.
I just follow the bleating lambs.
Who can end these conversations in my head?
How can I point to the Savior if I don’t know that I’m saved.
My hands slipping from this rope, bleeding.

It’s all in my heart, soul.
Not just how I behave.
Change myself so I don’t only crave me.
I guess I’m only in the grave, see.
Need your resurrection power.
Life—flooding through my veins.
Not some irrelational dope. It’s you holding me in your hands.

She will drop me; lose her hold.
But these hands won’t.
When I blow it, you keep waiting and you blow me
Away.
Father, be my father so I can be your son.
And know I’m not the only one.

I tried to fill the void.
Tried to cram my sister in the middle of my soul.
Tried to pour my pain to my brothers.
They taste the sweat in the ripped pages of my soul and try to still it.
But they only pour more fire.
We can’t heal each other.

You bind me.
You find me.
Like a bird hovering over deserts.
Come down. Carry me away from loneliness.
From myself.
Unbind me.
Unblind me.
My head knocked against your chest, somehow comforted.
Home.

Teach me respect, sonship.
Your hand on my shoulder. Eyes locked. Knighted.
Like my gender’s more than my body
Or mistaken stereotypes.
More than attractions. Hormones—out of the corner of my eye.
You don’t change. You are the potter. All others broken reeds.
You’re forming me—holistically holy.
Holistically me.

I’m pleading to be a son.
Because you call me to be a son.
I was created for you.
But in so many ways I still don’t get it.
Help me get it.
That you’re different—not just another one.
You’re everything. You’re reaching me through them.

Dear Lord, the one thing left to say is forgive me.
Forgive me for looking everywhere but you.
For trying to be saved, but not looking to the Savior.
And rejecting your blood.
All in the name of love.
I’m sorry!

What Is Your Name?

I watch Creation as it works, a seamless masterpiece of love.
How can I fathom what the sparrow knows?
Or the timing of a spring time shower?
How can I understand the inner-man; the desires, raw and unfiltered, of humanity?
How can I fathom the galaxy’s treasures, Your blessings upon the forsaken?
How can I believe in an invisible God? All there ever was–faith.

How can I see through the suffering? Mine, ours, his, hers, theirs.
We seem to be trapped within our flesh and brainwashed into broken logic.
How do you expect me to love you when all around me is pain?
How can I push for a deeper relationship when the door seems to be locked shut?
How can I see Spirit and life when my eyes just see a Book?
Why do I flirt with death when all I have is this life to live?

Where is everyone when I feel alone?
Where is the goodness in today when I only feel failure in these bones?
How can I spread a fire among the world when everyone is doused in Satan’s wisdom?
How is there a possibility for love when all I see is persecution?
How can I trust a God when He is only a name?
How can man escape his fears? Is it my sacrifice or ritual?

No, but only one man’s sacrifice. A man that sweats blood and heals children.
A man whose questions were deeper.
Why did He take the cup upon Himself? How could He deem us worthy?
He did it because we are not worthy. He took our filthy blood on Himself; And drained it.
He fills us with Himself instead of our questions.
How great is our God of heaven, earth, and my own forgiven soul?

Dear Sister

You tell me your heart is breaking.
You tell me you’re tired of faking.
Why do you have to be the tough girl?
Your world’s falling apart, and you can’t remake it.
You feel like God left you when you needed Him most.
You know your babe will leave you, though he’s promised he won’t.
And you’re a wreck.
You’re sick of it.
You swear that you’re all alone.
Death creeps closer to home.
All your friends turned to stone.
And your family won’t stop fighting. No!
You think you’re a mistake.
And you hate.

Don’t run to me;
The hot heroes on your screen;
They can’t save you.
I can’t stop your inner crisis.
I can’t be who only Christ is.
I was blind.
Broken.
Bruised.
There is one who can bind up.
There is vision.
I still feel lost sometimes,
But we were bought so dearly.
He never let go—not for a moment.
When you say you can’t feel Him,
He is still holding you.
The clouds don’t blot out the sun,
Or even dim it.
He didn’t go anywhere.
He can take your shattered pieces.
Make you new.
You are worth more than you could ever imagine–
Than I could ever see.
Go to the well and drink—-
Not from broken cisterns.
You don’t have to be the tough girl.
In His strength, you can be weak.

Let Him see you—
Bare bones.
The pain. The screaming.
Let Him hold you.
Kick against Him till you feel His arms.
Run as fast as you can.
Planted as deep as everything
That you could never have from me
Or anyone else.
Go away. Go,
Seek Him.
Ask.
He’s waiting.

I’m saying this because I love you,
Not because I don’t.
But love is the opposite of codependency.
You can’t find it in me.
So run. He’s holding out His arms to you.
Can’t you see Him?
He wants to hold you so tight.
It’s what He breathed to me one night:
“My love is deeper. Better.
I weep over her,
Like my flesh is being torn again.
I love her more than you could ever.
Only I can fill her.
Trust me.”
He’s telling you to trust Him.
Please, trust Him.
He never ever breaks His promise.

Standing Here

I’m frozen while standing here
At this lonely curb that everyone hates
My hands are shoved deep in my pockets–
I’ll shuffle my feet and grunt and groan,
But I’m still here and still stuck

I see others pass me by
Some are in the slow lane
The rest are speeding ahead
There are no tickets given to the confident
Inside we are the same though,
Unsure, unfaithful, unused
Our plastic faces are sore from smiling

Here comes the first one that I knew
He walks with confidence and purpose
We’ve come a long way from Play Group
His future is set by his own determination
He’s found companions in his passion
Our similarities are guided by the past-
Inside jokes, ridiculousness, memories
Is this what holds us together?
Will the glue deteriorate?

There’s the one who I thought was true
We laughed and joked and had fun
Then I found out how much he cared
Now he walks and does not look at me
His steps are sloppy, all over
Where is he going?
Even though I should care, I don’t
I lie to myself and say that I’m not angry
There’s no bitterness in my head
Make sure you look both ways before crossing

I see someone across the street
He hides behind lamps, cans, other walkers
Is he afraid of what I’ll think?
I see frustration, pain, shame in his eyes
Is he shutting me out from his walk and life?
Am I not trying hard enough?
He’s lived through more turmoil than I ever have
I won’t understand everything he’s going through
We cannot relate on our levels of life
He might be running away,
But I can’t stop him

Then there’s the man who stood by me
We’ve grown closer as we take this trek slow
We’ve both learned the danger of distractions
This road isn’t so lonely when we run
He’s walking away from worlds and eyes
Now I see him growing inch by inch
My mind tells me he’s inching away
I don’t know what to think, throw, thank-
Will he remember me?

Thousands of people are running around,
Hands clamped around their ears and eyes
They don’t want to hear, see, or live
Inside they’re hurt, misguided, and warped-
Until they can’t fit anywhere
Lost with nowhere to go

My fortune is a hidden one
I can help a select few in their long walk
These people have been placed in my life
Regardless of how they treat me
I can be the light on their dark street
And while I am standing here,
There is more than just companionship
I can reach for deep, true friendships

A Poem I Think I Wrote

I need to write a poem,
Not because I need to.
Not because of scrolling words a non-existent audience needs to read.
Not because the music in my head is so loud, I have to bleed.
Maybe there’s a song in my heart or I want to plant a seed.
I’m bored at 10pm when I should be asleep.
I want to fill pages when I don’t know what I’m feeling.
Not the not knowing that means something’s wrong and the ink turns to goop.
But the still not knowing, when nothing is particularly wrong or right, and you’re just tired
Yet you know everything is wrong and right, and you just feel inspired.

Take out the notebook.
Is it just to fill pages?
Just to hear yourself think?
To spill ink?
To feel legitimate?
To stay up one more hour because you started it?
Or is there more?

Cuz yesterday you wrote a love song, then scrapped it.
You’re writing more because you’re learning to write when you’re happy
Or when you just feel normal–
Even though you know there’s no such thing.
Writing happy, normal, tired
(Anything other than sludge and slime and more goop)
Is a challenge.
But you’re ready.
Cuz that nonsense was normal for too long.

You’re tired of it.
Your general state is happy now–
When you don’t think too hard,
Or you think hard enough.
It’s a paradigm shift.
And the poems you write should reflect it.

Like you’re a different person,
But you’re the same you’ve always been.
You just like yourself better
And thank God for making you you–
And giving you a crazy, normal, wonderful life.
And friends.
And family.
And self-respect.
And all the things you can let go of.
Including poetry.