The Marriage Penitentiary

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Besides being entertaining this short film touches on how sometimes marriage can get people into a lifestyle of aggression. Somewhere along the path selfless love got replaced with selfish gain.
It becomes almost impossible to see from the inside what the picture of the two hearts looks like from the outside. Usually both are hurting. Aching for needs, wants and desires to be filled. The result is two people constantly competing for their heart food, and both are left starving.
My hope with this short is that it resonates in the hearts of hurting, despondent couples. Maybe they can find their way back to a giving selfless relationship. Maybe this will ignite the spark needed to go talk with someone together to obtain the tools to move forward. As One.

Thanks for watching.
Love first, Live Well.

Adam Houle

Poisoned Center

I saw a beautiful flower
Yet death was at its core
I pondered the power
And the pull of it’s lure

Reflection – Some Relationship’s are like a flower. They can be beautiful, fragile and at times have the most wonderful fragrance of love. Yet sometimes there’s death awaiting as you get closer to the center of a person.
It may not be noticeable at first, blending silently within the wondrous picture of words and experience. As you study the lines more, a new picture unveils. One not so warm and be holding. One with a trap of selfishness and deceit.
Mockery lies, contempt, bitterness, egotistical narcissism, self centered bias, are just some of it’s poisons. It’s revealed in many ways.
These people claim love, admiration, dedication with a delicious tongue, and with the same mouth delivered a venomous bite of lies and betrayal. This is speckled with the pollen of greed. Greed to make oneself look better. Savage survival. And for what? The ability to claim the title of victim or betterment?
We are all the victims of their traps. Their constant luring into betrayal. They entice to destroy, to feed their need to sustain their presumed beauty.
Oh that people would let go of their needs to gorge on the strength of others. That they would put away their traps for the generous hearts. I wish they would accept their beauty as it is, and let go of their tools of destruction. For then the picture left would be perfect and true.
Put away the hate and deceit. Put away the death of bitterness. Walk in the beauty you were created to be. For these tools of madness, lead to an empty eternity.

Adam Houle

I can’t say I understand

 

I can’t say that I understand.

Nor in all honesty would I dare to try.

Yet you boldly face every day with hope.

Hope to understand.

Hope to fit the scattered pieces into something recognizable.

Hope to make it though the piercing day.

 

You hope.

 

I can’t say that I understand.

How you boldly face every memory and loss.

You hold your bleeding, pulsating heart in your hands for the world to see.

Not that you ripped it from your chest.

Because No.

It was thrust there by callused hands.

The very hands that stole the breath from the life you gave.

 

Those wicked hands.

 

I can’t say I understand.

How you boldly visit that day everyday.

You stand down the hall.

Near the door.

Sitting on the edge of the bed.

You stay there to the end.

And as your soul pours forth and begs for a different way you gather yourself and prepare for the next day.

 

Day after wicked day.

 

I can’t say I understand.

The empty words.

The looks given to you by those you know.

Their shallowness proceeds them as a shadow at sundown.

Selfishness giving away their emptiness.

Almost as if you were supposed to fill their voids with the very answers you seek.

 

Those evasive answers.

 

I can’t say I understand.

By what strength you give continually.

But you do.

It’s your nature.

You fulfill His word by loving those who take and steal.

And you do so more than any.

 

You’re real.

 

I can’t say that I understand life the way you’ve come to.

I don’t know that I could be so bold.

The path you’ve walked few would dare and many would quite.

You have fought fiercely.

Even for your next breath which is more than most would do.

 

You’ve fought.

 

I can’t say I understand.

I try.

 

Adam Houle

 

1/3/13- To Jaime and Fred- Survivors of a murdered child-Elizabeth-The Rose. I hope for healing daily.

 

American Gothic Remake

A remake I created based on 

American Gothic a painting by Grant Wood.

‘Farmer and his wife 2014’ encompasses some of the ideals of some Americans who farm the government instead of the land. Enjoy.

Adam Houle

 

The way of the Father

The way of a Father

He speaks though me
In ways I can and can’t see
He strength lives on in my actions
And his words swim though my speech
He taught me to work and sweat
He taught me to be
He shown me the wind and it’s cautions
And gave me breathe to preach
All this wisdom he freely gave
And His voice still booms from the grave
I smile I’m reminded
He taught me how to twist wire
And dock a sheep
How to tend a fire
My temper to keep
He taught me how to build a house
And how to tear one down
How to treat a spouse
And how to stand my ground
He taught me how to grow my own food
And how to kill it too
He taught me what was rude
And all that was good to do
He taught me of eternity
And to give entirely
Of My body mind and soul
To be a father as he
That’s my goal.
I honor him not on this day alone
But everyday
Because of the seeds he’s sown
They Gave me the way.
The way of a Father.

By Adam Houle 2014

Love depends on it

Dry.
This season has taken every last drop. Yet it’s seems that an unseen river flows and gives me life to move on. Depression has no rules. It regulates itself. It attacks with a fury. The grey lifts but for moments. But oh those short intricate times! They are sweet and warm. They ease the mind and comfort the soul from the cold barrage of the mundane war.
Each second of most days is a battle for positivity. And I fight. I fight because it will not win. I chose. I chose to live. I chose to fight for those moments of sunshine.The cold ground where I will sleep shall come soon enough.
For now I live. My body is warm. And my heart beats. Love depends on me to show up another day. So I will.
Each morning offers new air pushed by a new breeze, and so I go to explore it’s currents.
Give me life.
I resist the bonds.
Let me find the joy in each moment. Love depends on it.

Given Granted

Given time,
You don’t abide.
Granted life,
You let it slide.
Given dreams,
You push them aside.
Granted love,
You live a lie.
Given hope,
You’d rather die.
Granted peace,
You scream and cry.
Given faith,
You run and hide.
Granted Jesus,
You hang Him high.
~Adam Houle~