Saturday, December 31, 2011

Last Laugh

It’s not easy being a poet
who despises poetry,
one who believes 90% of all poets
are bullshit,
excited, snotty little shits,
so full of themselves they
can barely walk,
let alone write about things
they understand less,
poetry has become an abstraction,
a train wrecked shambles,
without rhyme but more importantly;

without reason.

I bought this journal and pen,
something on which
to write the new words,
the new thoughts,
a cornucopia of expression,
a symphony of sound,
a bright, white mass of exploding light,
a spattering of pure, unadulterated originality,
but now,
as I stare at these blank pages,
the realization occurs that
these new words,
are the same as the old words,
its has all been said
and said again,
used and reused,
just a different format,
a revised version,
only our simple-minded human egos
prevent us from seeing the truth,
let alone admitting it;

there really is nothing new
under the sun.

We titillate and capitulate,
until it all seems fresh and alive,
patting ourselves on the back,
creating monumental trophies and awards
for the same old bullshit,
reading the collected works of man
is like walking on a treadmill,
you struggle and work
but no matter how far you go,
in the end you’re right back
where you started.

Morrison had the last laugh,
he wasn’t a god,
not some mystic, warrior poet,
just a drunk who
liked to hump,
a degenerate,
a bold-faced, killer clown,
with the soul of a madman,
a pathetic little parasite
disguised as Adonis,
the ultimate masquerade,
yes, Morrison had the last laugh;

long live the king.
.
.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

There is No Fairness in Virginia

151 years ago Virginia fought a war, killing hundreds of thousands to protect their ‘right’ of self-determination as a state. They did so with no regard for the effects this ‘self-determination’ had on millions of people deemed less than human(by law) and therefore legally owned property. They did so to protect the interests of a relatively small group of wealthy plantation owners who stood to lose everything if the institution of slavery was abolished. They convinced the common folks of Virginia that this war was about ‘self-determination’, fairness and Yankee imperialism, but the bottom line is that it was really about greed and the desire to maintain a lifestyle which required a great deal of wealth. Their thinking was deceptive and backwards then and little has changed in the ‘Commonwealth’ of Virginia as far as the ruling class is concerned. Today there are laws and regulations in Virginia which openly discriminate against certain categories of individuals. This is not an attack on the people of Virginia. The people of Virginia are some of the most gracious, kindest, ‘salt-of-the earth’ individuals you will find anywhere on earth. Fair minded, loyal individuals who place their trust in God and government. In fact it is the basic fairness and sense of loyalty of the people of Virginia that legislators used then to fight a war and use today in a battle that still continues.

There is no fairness in Virginia,
sitting in their Richmond offices
like a brood of vipers,
hiding behind their chivalry,
their heritage,
their mollified gentility;

basking in their
‘moral superiority’.

Pompous bureaucrats
playing politics,
making self-serving policies,
passing discriminatory laws,
destroying people and lives
in the process,
then throwing up their hands;

“it’s the law”,
(we have the right).

All the time
smiling in your face,
using long drawn out
gracious words
dripping with hypocrisy,
stating well-rehearsed,
practiced lines,
providing legal and
self-righteous justification,
a soulless people
trapped within their
own self-deception,
blinded by their ‘right’ to do so
no matter what the cost,
trampling afoot,
those helpless to fight back;

a conquered nation
seeking revenge.
.
.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Christmas Past

I did a search on my data base for poems I had written with a Christmas theme and here are two I found. They were both wrote many years ago (at least 15), I had forgotten I had even written them. I am posting them with the hope that you will understand they do not reflect my life today. What I am hoping people will see from them is that even in the darkness the Lord was dealing with me, even if I did not understand or comprehend it. That He is there even when we do not know it, that He is waiting for us to open the door of our hearts and allow Him to come in and have fellowship with us no matter where we might be or who we think we have become.  On the eve of another Christmas, as we prepare to celebrate the birth of a Savior that most don't truly know or understand, my one hope is that everyone who does happen to read this will stop (even for just a second) and reflect on just who this man called Jesus really was. That you will turn off the tv, put down the headsets, and listen, really listen, for that small, still voice that calls within us all. He is there waiting, for you, for me, for all of us.

Not Often


I try to play by the rules,
but sometimes
I’m not even sure what the rules are,
and most of the time;

it doesn’t really matter.

There was a time
when it did matter,
but that’s just the way it goes,
the way it is,
inside I know it will pass;

as it always does.

The darkness draws close now,
closer than ever before,
enveloping me in its icy mystery,
as I no longer try to run
from its hidden secrets,
becoming one with its silky
sweet voice.

I remember Christmas Eve from the past,
when the world seemed fresh and sweet,
waiting for my dad to come home from work,
going to my aunt’s house for the traditional
Christmas Eve get together,
where my sisters and I would open one present,
all the lights out except those on the Christmas tree,
Elvis playing on the record player,
singing ‘I’ll be home for Christmas’,
wishing I could hold on to it
forever.

Sometimes I remember,
sometimes it matters;

but not often.
_________________________

Christmas Morning

Ah glorious morning,
the world holds its breath,
waiting for your wonderful moment,
searching for a glimpse
of your undeniable truth,
soon it will fade,
but for that one shining moment,
we remember,
and we see
with our hearts,
not our minds.

Soon the darkness will return,
the prince of this world
jealously guards his kingdom,
blinding the truth with words like
God and country,
waving his flags,
creating his heroes,
making that which is simple,
so very complicated,
making that which is nothing,
so very important,
keeping us apart,
confusing us
with his own deeds,
his own power,
justifying patriotic hatred,
creating racial separation;

ah but for a moment
we remember,
and we see
the peace;

thank you blessed king.
.
.

Friday, December 23, 2011

Cost of Living

What is the cost of living?

sadness,
joy,
sorrow,
suffering,
pain,
hopelessness,
satisfaction,
fulfillment,
emptiness,
loneliness,
death;

decisions made,
consequences paid;

for every breath there is a cost.

Evil in the name of righteousness,
hypocrisy in the form of light,
of such things are men made,
by such things do they fall,
standing fast on truths
they understand not,
blinded by sanctimonious testimony,
lost on roads leading to nowhere;

who shall pay the debt?
.
.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Rejoice

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4: 4-7

The cold black night quietly closes in,
the pain steadily intensifies,
blinding and overwhelming,
becoming more than I think
my spirit can possibly bear,
hope slowly fades,
rage fills my mind and heart,
bitterness and anger grow,
until it feels as though
I am about to burst,
the enemy silently waits;

ready for the final kill.

Then You reach out
across the long lonely miles,
using unsuspecting and unexpected messengers,
gently reminding me that You are near,
softly speaking words of encouragement,
renewing my faltering spirit,
providing new found courage,
making it possible to rise once again.

The pain begins to dissolve,
the darkness turns to light,
hope comes flooding in like a mighty river,
Your blessed peace surrounds me
like a well worn blanket,
the enemy retreats
back into the blackness
from which he came.

Once more You have delivered me
from unseen traps and snares,
once more You have brought hope
where there was none to be found,
once more You have saved me
through Your never ending mercy and grace;

I will rejoice in You,
I will declare Your wondrous love,
I will praise Your holy name,
forever.
.
.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Portable CD Players

Out on the front line,
(nights are the worst),
the sentinels stand watch,
waiting for the next attack to begin,
knowing it could be the last,
fighting to the very end,
ready to kill or be killed,
thinking about the girl back home,
or the wife, the two kids,
the car, and the house
with the white picket fence
then realizing,
that none of that much matters now;

dead or alive;

for the first time
I understand portable CD players
and headphones.
.
.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Cardiovascular Wars

Changes come,
swift and unexpected,
on calm, quiet, sunny days
so transient and fragile,
nothing is permanent;

except death.

And so it is,
you return home,
fresh from the cardiovascular wars,
having faced the beast
with only internal scars to show,
even though you know,
one battle does not make a war,
and in the end;

he always wins.

Now you take your place
with all the other veterans,
watching and quietly waiting
for the next one,
as you are slowly devoured
one artery at a time.
.
.

Pain In The Ass

My 4 year old grandson
is a little pain in the ass,
always looking for new ways
to get in trouble,
always wanting to do
exactly that
which you don’t want him to do.

He spent a week and a half with us
down at the shore,
the day his mom took him home
I bought him a Franklin doll
and a bag of candy,
he tore the hat off Franklin,
and when I tried to hug him goodbye,
he hit me in the mouth
with the bag of candy;

now it’s real peaceful and quiet;

I sure do miss that little pain in the ass.
.
.

Guidos On The Beach

Insomnia at the beach,
what a dangerous combination;

it all comes to an end;

vacations,
dreams,
youth,
life.

In the morning,
old lovers walk the beach,
holding hands
as young yuppies
ride bikes on the boardwalk,
jogging or walking very fast;
the important thing
is to look like you’re
going somewhere.

You can tell the Guido yuppies,
pulling their Guido kids in carts
behind their Guido bikes,
whizzing by at 50 mph,
straight ahead,
making everyone else
watch out for them.

Just a little house,
a boardwalk
and an ocean;

is that asking for too much?
.
.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

A Time For Everything

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. What does the worker gain from his toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil – this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him.   Ecclesiastes 3:1-14


No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.   Romans 8:37-38

In the early morning silence
You softly speak,
revealing mysteries and truths
I cannot fathom,
surpassing all my understanding,
that Your ways are not my ways,
that Your thoughts are not my thoughts,
that You are the vine
and I am just the branch,
that all my ideas,
all my words,
are nothing without You.

There is a time for everything,
a time to be born,
a time to die,
everything You do
endures forever,
nothing can be added to it,
nothing can be taken from it,
death does not end it;

nothing shall separate us
from Your love.
.
.

Friday, December 16, 2011

A Message For My Daughters



























Be young my darlings,
for as long as you possibly can;
reach out
and grab everything
there is to grab;
lay all your fears to rest
while there is still time;
never look back
with pity or regret;
be bold and beautiful
like the sun and moon;
shine like the stars
through the cold black night,
but most of all;

be all the things
I never could.
.
.

Small Minds

Small minds look for weakness
wherever they can find it,
it makes them bigger
than they really are,
more than they will ever be,
as they search for a home
that never was,
wandering like roaming gypsies
across desert plains,
mindless,
aimless;

doomed.

Time is not a friend,
it takes until there is nothing left,
leaving no trace,
destroying everything
in its path,
without witness,
without hope.

The enemy waits within,
silently ready,
alarmingly knowing,
gnawing away,
a growing whisper,
an unknown touch,
a dark, mindless shadow,
“just a little farther” it hisses,
just one more
momentary lapse longer,
just one small break in protocol,
better safe than sorry,
sooner or later
it comes to us all;

time is not a friend.

Small minds never journey
past the mistakes,
trapped by the insecurity,
lost within the fear;

forever stuck in the glue,
.
.

Somewhere There is Love/Somewhere There is You

Somewhere there is decency and goodness
amidst the evil and iniquity,
somewhere there is mercy and hope
within the suffering and doubt;

somewhere there is love,
somewhere there is You.

Where darkness is no more,
and light shines pure and bright,
where every tear is wiped away,
and fear fades like the disappearing night;

somewhere there is love,
somewhere there is You.

To You do I swear my allegiance,
in You will my life forever belong,
with You does my loyalty lie,
through You will I know no wrong,
the One who bought my freedom with His life,
the One who is my majestic Savior and King,
the One through whom all things flow;
the One whose praises I will forever sing.

Knowing You is worth more
than all the riches of this world,
to be where You are,
is the greatest gift one could ever receive.

Teach us Your ways,
guide us as beloved children,
pour out Your Holy Spirit on our heads,
bathe us in Your brilliant light,
fill us with Your precious love,
show the entire world Your magnificent glory,
let all creation praise Your wonderful name,
let every knee bow and every tongue confess
that You and You alone are Lord and King;

somewhere there is love,
somewhere there is You.
.
.

Raise Me Up

The time has begun, today shall be the day, now is the answer, here in lies the way.

In the morning when I rise,
You are there,
softly speaking to my soul,
quietly humbling my swollen ego,
making me understand
the glory and magnificence
that is Yours alone,
throughout the day,
as my tongue speaks foolish vanities
and my mind thinks
self-absorbed, hate filled thoughts,
You softly remind me;

gently rebuking,
patiently teaching.

Raise me up O Lord,
help me to stand,
fill me with Your Holy Spirit,
consume me with Your wondrous fire,
surround me with Your marvelous love,
reach out with Your mighty hand,
cleanse my filthy garments,
heal my damaged soul,
remake me in Your holy image;

remove anything not of You.

O magnificent Lord,
Light of heaven,
King of the universe,
Savior of the world,
let every voice
sing praises unto You,
let every breath taken
glorify Your precious name.
.
.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Nun

I seek you out,
like a beast in heat,
blindly,
passionately;

without question.

The smell of your
womanhood,
with all its
mysterious excitement,
driving me to madness,
basic instincts more powerful
than society,
more overwhelming
than reason,
more satisfying
than life,
sweeter than the sweetest
night.

Come,
sit with me,
let me whisper
in your ear,
alone in our bedtime chamber,
lying before the burning fire,
glowing with the heat
of a million naked souls,
lay your tired head
upon my breast,
I will soothe
and make you forget,
taking you
to new and unseen worlds,
where together
we shall rule over
all that moves,
all that feels;

all that loves.
.
.

Sweet Mystery

Cold hunger moves on,
forever searching for sacred omissions,
upon which scattered ambitions lie waiting,
reaching farther for just one moment,
where refuge may be found.

It is here we make our final stand,
alone and unafraid,
the outcome already decided,
by rhymes and reasons
beyond our ability to control.

Standing still,
holding our breath for worlds unseen,
giving it up at bargain basement costs,
then wondering why it is
there never seems to be enough
to go around.

Ah yes,
here it comes again,
sweet mystery,
smooth like silk,
how much more can be absorbed
before slipping into the endless dream?
.
.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

South Dakota Cowboys and Other Chance Encounters

Out on the open plains of South Dakota,
a man might still have a chance for dignity,
if he can survive long enough
to overcome the shadows
stirring within.

It is a simpler way of life,
trapped inside a play station world
where television and X-boxes rule,
full of emotional ties
and endless compromises,
traveling south down highway 61.

It’s not for everyone,
in fact, it’s hardly for anyone,
but the few which have no choice,
those who did not escape
so many years ago,
while they might have had a chance.

But still we are what we are,
and in the final analysis
that is all that ever mattered,
even as the ship upon which we ride
slips slowly past the point of no return,
.
.

Change is never easy,

freedom does not come

without a special sacrifice,

the price of an authentic life

is often more than one can bear.

An Excuse

America loves war,
it is our passion,
the foundation
upon which we were built,
little boys play two things
growing up in America,
sports and army,
every great American hero
was a war hero;

think about it.

Our entire culture,
everything that we are,
is built upon war
and the principles of war,
the revolution,
the civil war,
both world wars,
Korea,
Vietnam,
to understand America
you must understand one thing;

America loves war.

It is our passion,
our foundation,
our pastime,
so the next time
you want to fly airplanes
into our buildings
and kill innocent lives,
just remember that one thing,
and ask yourself one question;

do I really want to give them an excuse?
.
.

First Good Day

It was the first good day of spring,
warm but not hot,
a mommy holding her little boy’s hand,
while daddy puts his arm around their little girl,
going for a walk kind of day.

Broke out the grill for dinner,
barbecued some chicken and a leftover
london broil,
felt the warm sunshine and light cool breeze
blowing softly on my skin,
it was the way a day should be;

calm and quiet.

Even some of the pain felt less,
but not completely,
warm sunshine and light cool breezes
are never going to take that away;

completely.

She sat beside me as I wrote,
neither of us saying a word,
we never do and sometimes
that says a lot;

but not really.

Yes, it was a very magnificent day,
the kind of day during which
a person could lay back,
take a deep breath and
die;

and feel very okay about it.
.
.

Friday, December 9, 2011

fairy tales and other myths

everyday
you try to get
better,
everyday
you stand up
and begin
again,
but the best
is behind you
now,
there are days
when you are sure
you will never
make love
again,
and more still
when you just don’t
care,
the music fills your brain
until you begin to
choke on it,
as you reach for the comfort
which is no longer
there.

3 in the morning
never felt so cold,
on dark lonesome Fridays
when everything
that once made sense,
falls away
into lakes and valleys,
where hidden monsters
lie patiently in wait,
and it is here
that you belong,
it is this
that you have sought,
so now
shall it be,
the ultimate loser,
in the final loss
of a game
being played
on foreign fields;

where you never stood a
chance.

she has taken
the one thing
which might have
made a difference,
with impossible promises
and broken truths,
as it all begins to come
together
one more time;

closer,
nearer,
quieter,
silently,
gone;

and you think inside,
if she just walked
through that door,
you would love her;

forever;

but happily ever after,
exists only
in fairy tales
and myths.
.
.

Part of the Cost

Southern boys like their trucks
clean and sweet,
moaning and groaning,
like fresh young virgins
on warm Saturday nights,
dreamers dream,
lovers love,
sleepers sleep,
inside we all silently weep;

part of the cost,
part of the loss.

Kingdoms crumble,
melting like sand castles
beneath mighty ocean waves,
crashing violently upon
white sugary beaches,
stranding aqua blue jelly fish
for all eternity;

part of the cost,
part of the loss.

Haughty, petulant children,
searching in vain
for honor and truth,
hidden among ruins and ancient halls
of perfect darkness,
never finding,
never knowing,
never understanding;

part of the cost,
part of the loss.

So many memories,
so much lost
along the way,
hanging on,
holding on
with everything we have,
but in the end
they fade away
like the early morning mist
before the
noon day sun,
and all that is left
are echoes,
silently bouncing
off empty
forgotten walls,
there is no hiding
in this solitary world
called life,
no sanctuary,
no turning back;

part of the cost,
part of the loss.

Through it all,
You continue to look down,
through it all,
You stand by my side,
You are the beginning,
You are the end,
You are all there is,
do not leave me here Lord,
do not forsake me,
hear my plea,
forgive my transgressions,
deliver me from evil ways;

bring me home to You.
.
.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Power

For the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. I Corinthians 4:20 (KJV)


For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power. I Corinthians 4:20 (NIV)

Your power is beyond all
that this world can comprehend,
like a philosophy or psychology
we try to minimize who You really are,
sweeping You under man-made rugs,
placing You inside man-made boxes,
trying to restrain You with man-made
laws and traditions,
never understanding,
never knowing,
never able to fully acknowledge,
that everything we are,
everything we know,
exists only by Your
unfathomable mercy and grace,
through the unlimited power
of Your Word alone,
that every breath taken is a gift,
which can never be repaid.

Through the power of Your Holy Spirit,
You give me a taste
of a world free from sin,
a world of love and hope,
stripped of all its suffering and fear;

without hate,
without lust,
without greed.

Through the power of Your Holy Spirit,
You help me to understand,
You help me to see,
a world which my mind
cannot fully grasp,
an indescribable place
prepared from the beginning
for those who love You,
a world that leaves me humbled,
perfect and pure,
without words,
a world where I can only
fall down before You;

my Lord,
my Master,
my King,
my Everything.
.
.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Soon Enough

My words have never put food on the table,
never paid a mortgage,
never provided a day of rent,
never influenced a generation,
never brought tears to the eyes of angels,
never made a difference to anyone
but me;

and I never listen
to them either.

They have always been just words,
never anything more,
never anything less,
never something
worth suffering or sacrificing for;

never something worth dying for.

They have never been anything more
than a minor inconvenience,
stroking inflated egos,
impressing weak-minded women,
influencing over-bearing idiots,
a litany of unimaginative wit and charm,
famous for their infamous demeanor,
nothing but meaningless dribble
on a cold March morning;

nothing more than a
damn crying shame.

The hunger consumes,
the hunger divides,
conquering divisions and rifts,
preying upon empty skeletons,
alone and unprepared,
empty and afraid,
soon enough it will come,
just as you always feared,
soon enough you will be
right where you belong,
right where you were meant to be;

soon enough.
.
.

Lil Bitches

Words can make people come alive,
words can cut and kill,
sometimes, words are all there is,
other times, words are never quite enough;

words can mean everything,
words can mean nothing at all.

For someone who prides themselves,
on their ability to manipulate
and massage words,
I haven’t been very true,
I have left my first love,
I have abandoned my calling,
I have taken my words for granted,
thinking that they
will always be there for me,
but this isn’t always so,
you have to guard the things
which are precious,
you have to hold them tightly,
like a schoolboy holding
his best girl,
or they just might walk away,
when you least expect it,
never to return again.

The best ones always walk away,
they never hang around long,
so you have to lay them down quick,
make love to them
while they’re in the mood,
dance with them
while the music’s playing,
stroke their hair,
whisper and cajole,
while you have the chance,
even if it’s in the most public places,
even if it’s not politically correct,
otherwise they walk,
and they never come back,
never;

the damn lil bitches!
.
.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

3D Images

Yesterday
I actually saw it,
I was beginning to think
that perhaps there was something
wrong with me,
but then
there I was,
sitting in the dentist’s office,
staring blankly at the image in front of me,
when it just appeared,
I think my eyes were slightly crossed,
you can’t imagine the relief
it made me feel,
like a member of some secret society,
like some ancient holy man,
I wonder if it was the same
for the prophets?
of course
they probably didn’t have
3D images back then,
but still,
it’s good to know that you’re normal,
the next time you’re at the mall
staring at one of those things,
and some lady next to you
says to her husband,
“See it honey, see it?”

Now at least
I can say
I saw it once.
.
.

The One I Praise

Heal me, O Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise. Jeremiah 17:14

I have traveled so far,
still I return to this place
where I once began,
this land of degradation and pain,
this unknown world,
where darkness and silence
live hand in hand;

I have traveled so far,
yet have I gone nowhere?

Deliver me O Lord,
do not give me more
than my broken spirit can bear,
do not leave me here
to face the enemy
I could never overcome alone,
in You will I place my trust,
in You will I have my hope,
in You will I find my salvation;

in You will I find my rest.

Touch me that I might be healed,
turn me from paths
that do not lead to You,
teach me how to walk in Your light,
test me that I may be confirmed;

for if You heal me O Lord,
I will be healed,
if You save me,
I will be saved;

for you are the One I praise.
.
.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Mystery

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:10-12

There is a mystery here,
whispering through the swaying trees,
singing over the silent rocks,
flowing with the mountain stream,
gathering in the darkening clouds,
all around the battle rages,
quietly waiting,
unseen, unknown,
beyond sight,
beyond touch;

beyond understanding.

Cool, gray December skies,
dull, hazy, low hanging sun,
Friday afternoon school bus,
delivering mediocrity and weekend misery,
never quite sure,
fading within the moving shadows,
rising from the wavering depths;

I remember it well.

Slaves to what we see,
what we hear, what we feel,
all the time seeing nothing,
hearing nothing,
feeling nothing,
mirrors and smoking guns,
illusions and disappearing truths,
cheap parlor tricks played out
on slick talking talk shows,
here today,
gone tomorrow,
the war never ends;

the enemy never sleeps.

There is a mystery here,
it remains long after the screams
have all died and slipped away.
.
.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Tightrope

Then Jesus said to his disciples: “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest? Luke 12:22-26

I am reading this book,
it is one of those self-help books,
written by one of those self-help gurus,
who teaches that we are all in control
of our own destinies,
that we ‘allow’ the bad things
which happen to us,
how it’s all just a matter of attitude,
and to change the circumstances
we find ourselves in,
we need only change how we view
the people and situations around us,
I believe there is some truth in this;

but;

I’m not sure how this explains starving children in Africa,
lying with their stomachs distended and bloated,
staring up at the camera with dead bulging eyes,
or a young bride in Cancun,
struck down dead by a lightning bolt on her honeymoon,
or a hundred other stories so tragic,
so terrible and horrific,
people don’t even like talking about them,
because it makes them remember
that we aren’t in control of anything;

and we never were.

It is only our human arrogance
which tells us otherwise,
when the truth is something much simpler,
something beyond anything we can see or touch,
that there is only so much to go around,
and what gives to one takes from another,
that we’re all circus performers,
walking slowly along the stretched tightrope,
that all our planning, all our worrying,
cannot add a single hour to the length of our lives,
that there will never be any true happiness,
until we place our trust in the One who can.
.
.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Yeshua

What words have I
to honor a King?
What gift can be given
worthy of His name?

He who overcame,
He who defeated death forever,
He who reigns eternally,
He who is our master.

Mocked and mistreated,
spit upon and reviled,
beaten and scourged,
led like a lamb to the slaughter,
sacrificed upon a tree
for our iniquities and transgressions,
resurrected from the grave,
that through faith in Him
none should perish,
but all might have life.

Through Him are all things possible,
through Him are all things made new,
to Him does all praise belong,
to Him is all glory given,
lift up His name before all others;

Yeshua,
the Holy One of God.
.
.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Holy Words

Caught up in the moment,
lost in the confusion and chaos,
surrounded by a ruthless enemy,
I take shelter in Your protective arms,
within the silence and solitude
of the long black night,
I seek Your righteous counsel.

Guide my path O Lord,
direct my wavering hand,
let all who see my life
know the beauty and wonder
of Your marvelous mercy and grace;

do this for Your glory my Lord,
do this for Your mighty name.

Who am I,
that You should pour out Your blessings?
Who am I,
that You should see my life?

There is a way that seems right to a man,
but in the end it leads to death.
Proverbs 16:25

All my thoughts,
all my knowledge,
all my righteousness,
are but filthy rags
before Your mighty presence.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways My ways,”
declares the Lord.
“As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are My ways higher than your ways
and My thoughts than your thoughts.”
Isaiah 55:8-9

Thank You my precious Lord,
for Your marvelous, glorious light,
for Your holy words of wisdom and truth,
which shine like rare and wondrous pearls.
.
.

The Candle Burns Low Old Friend

The candle burns low old friend,
soon it will be gone forever,
but what a run it was,
dancing by its glorious new light,
turning on the table of time.

We have shared much along the way,
so it is we say farewell,
let us leave as we entered,
without sorrow or regret,
with no goodbyes along the way.

Insanity is natures’ only defense,
for jokes and other truths
far to cruel too withstand,
thank you for the time
You have given me.
.
.

My Lord

Thank you
for loving me,
for forgiving me,
for dying (for me),
for paying my debt,
for being perfect,
for being the truth,
for being the light;

for showing me the way.

Thank You for these
and so many things
which are given freely,
which could never be repaid,
even if I tried;

fill me with Your spirit,
fill me with Your love,
fill me with Your grace,
fill me with Your mercy,
that others might see
Your shining glory,
that they might reach out
for this priceless gift,
offered to all who would receive it;

praise Your name,
for You above all
are worthy.
.
.

thank you Jesus

this morning
it felt like
together,
we might actually
win
this fucked up game
called life.

that together
we could escape
the endless cycle
of depression and sadness,
the poverty and abuse
that comes with years
of hopeless futures
and dead end streets.

that together
our love
could escape
even death.

and to think
we almost let this
miracle
slip away;

thank you
Jesus
for not letting
it happen.
.
.

Thank You Doctor

The doctor said I was a diabetic,
so then I was;
the doctor said I was hypertensive,
so then I was;
the doctor said I had clogged arteries,
so then I did.

Now I take 20 pills a day,
for reasons that
I’ve long forgotten why,
yet I never felt diabetic,
I never felt hypertensive,
I never felt clogged,
in fact, I never felt bad at all,
until the doctor said I did,
but now it’s right there in my chart;

so it must be.

Congratulations,
you’ve finally made it,
the final gravy train;

middle age,
white male heaven;

now you can lie around all day
in your pajamas,
watching TV
and feeling good about yourself;

thank you doctor.
.
.

Unconditionally

Thank you,
for all that you have given to me,
for so many early morning sunrises,
for healthy babies,
for shining smiles on my daughter’s faces,
for my grandson’s enthusiasm and innocent laughter,
for moments of tender love making
when my wife and I became one,
for cold dark nights,
for warm ocean days
and endless boardwalk summers,
for memories of Hawaiian winds swirling in my face,
for turkey gizzards and Christmas mornings,
for homeruns and touchdown runs,
for my daughter’s warrior spirit,
for a world so wonderful
yet so terrible and mysterious;

for Aunt Do.

Thank you,
for all that is good,
for all that is light,
for all that is evil,
for the darkness
of the eternal night.

Thank you
for all these things
and so much more,
for giving them freely,
for giving them completely,
for giving them;

unconditionally.

(Thank You)
.
.

Illusion

This world is an illusion,
hiding the truth
with all it’s various variations
and subtle differences,
until it all seems natural,
as it should be,
when it is not even close to that
which it was intended to be.

Deception by the one
who would deceive us all,
lies dressed up to smell like truth,
happily living in this sugar coated world,
never wanting more,
never looking past the walls,
never finding the truth on our own.

This world, this body, this life,
were created to hold the spirit
existing within us all,
whose only purpose
is to communicate with
and do the will of the One
in whose image we were made,
He who holds all true power,
He who makes the sun shine
on both the good and the bad.

Can you imagine a world
where everyone treats others
as they would like to be treated,
where no one judges lest they be judged,
where if a person is in need of your coat
you give them your shirt as well,
where if someone strikes your cheek
you offer them the other,
a world where hatred and anger
no longer exist,
where unconditional love
is freely given;

can you imagine it?

when you can then perhaps you too
will see through this illusion,
this roller coaster ride of self-happiness
and instant gratification.

Oh Lord,
You who are the truth
in a world gone blind,
You who created all things
by Your word alone,
You who are light
in a world full of darkness,
You who are mercy and compassion
in a world of hatred and greed,
You who provide all that is needed;

forgive us;

for our weakness,
for our inability to escape
from the temptations of this illusion,
help us to see,
help us to remember,
no matter how many wondrous things
are hands do build,
no matter what great marvels
our technology does produce,
that they are nothing
without You.

You are the One
who makes all things new,
You are the One
who made all that ever was
or ever will be.

Thank you Lord
that You hide these truths
from all but those who see
and understand as children,
thank you Lord for Your mercy and grace,
which allows us to continue
in spite of continuous disobedience
to Your word and your will,
thank you oh Lord
for loving us so greatly
that You allowed Your only
begotten son to be humiliated and suffer
at the hands of those
who were not worthy to kiss His feet;

thank you Lord,
thank You;

in the name of Jesus Christ,
who died that all might live,
who suffered beyond imagination,
that the whole world might not;

thank You
oh blessed Lord.
.
.

Thank You My Lord

Let my heart sing praises unto You,
let the whole earth worship and adore You,
let every knee bow down before You,
let every tongue confess that You are King;

for You alone are worthy,
You alone deserve all praise.

Your greatness is beyond words,
Your mercy and grace
more than can be fathomed,
You have placed joy in my heart,
You have raised me up from the ashes,
You have restored my hope,
You have brought righteousness and light
where there once was darkness and night;

thank You my dear, precious Lord,
thank You.

Thank You for every breath,
thank You for each new day,
thank You for friends,
thank You for family,
thank You for my wife,
thank You for Your sacrifice,
thank You for Your truth,
thank You for Your light,
thank You for lessons learned,
thank You for Your discipline,
thank You for Your love,
thank You for being by my side
closer than a brother,
thank You for this life,
thank You for the life to come,
where You shall make everything new,
where You shall provide every need,
where You shall wipe away every tear,
thank You my Lord and King;

thank You.
.
.

Thank You

Reach deep,
search for tired empty answers
hidden by dreams of mist,
imprisoned by
bars of golden madness,
darkness;
looking beyond the night,
deeper;
crawling into the past
to escape the future,
running from nameless faces
and silent voices.

With a soft sigh
it died,
never to return,
never to feel again;

unnoticed,
unattended;

in the end
there just wasn’t enough room,
choices made,
irreversible,
unrecoverable,
dark highways traveled
on imaginary steeds
in strange forgotten lands;

who are we to say?
who are we to know?

Perhaps it is just as well,
secrets were never destined
to stand out
in the morning light;

thank you
for the time
You have given me.
.
.

Thank You Lord

Sometimes I am ready to let it end,
but it doesn’t last for long,
there is always a rebound,
one last rising of emotions from within,
a rush of desire and passion
that just will not be denied,
no matter how futile it all may be;

I am not perfect
and that is a hard concept to accept.

But that is what it all comes down too,
it is not about the music we listen to,
not about the clothes we wear
or the length of our hair,
not the words that we speak
or the effort with which we try,
not the amount of good deeds we might do
or the sacrifices we make,
no matter how hard we might try,
no matter how badly we might wish it so,
in the end there is not a one of us
who can be perfect,
not a one of us
who can find the way home
on our own,
not a one of us
who deserves this gift
we were given;

thank you Lord.
.
.

Thank You My Precious Lord

Thank you Lord;

for the blowing wind,
for the swaying trees,
for the nighttime moon,
for the morning sun,
for this precious gift of life;

for every breath.

Thank you for Your word,
for Your mercy and grace,
for Your Holy One;

for Your Holy Spirit.

Thank you for Your truth and light
amidst the darkness and lies,
for Your precious love
where there is no love to be found,
thank you for this peace
You have placed in my heart;

thank you for allowing me to be
a son of the Living God.

Praise Your magnificent creation,
praise Your mighty name,
praise Your glorious presence;

let every voice sing praise unto You.
.
.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Everything

Help me to stand O Lord,
at the foot of Your glorious throne,
lead me down paths of righteousness,
teach me Your sacred and holy ways,
shelter me from the enemy
silently waiting outside,
raise me up above this chaos and confusion,
remove the anger and turmoil
living deep within my troubled soul,
defeat the lusts and perversions
quietly lurking inside my weakened flesh,
deliver me from the evil
surrounding my every side;

let me take refuge in You O Lord.

Silence the iniquity and filth
spewing from my foolish tongue,
let every word from my lips
bring praise to Your precious name,
let Your mercy and grace
flow like a mighty river;

fill me with Your unspeakable love.

Use this humble vessel my Lord,
to declare Your magnificent splendor,
let Your magnificent light shine
like a beacon upon a hill.

When the alluring nighttime darkness,
provocatively beckons my searching soul,
You are there softly calling out,
showing me the way home,
leading me back into Your waiting arms.

Without You all the words are dead,
without You there is no light,
without You there is no tomorrow,
without You there is no hope.

You are my truth,
You are my breath,
You are my life;

You are my everything.
.
.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

JFK

They are all gone now,
along with the noble causes
and high ideals,
everything neatly tucked away,
out of sight,
like old bones hidden deep
in dark cellar dungeons,
where no one looks to hard
or asks too many questions;

out of fear of the answers
they might find.

In the final analysis,
it was never a question
of wrong or right,
or truth, justice and the American way,
it was always just
a matter of who really cares?
and in the end
nobody really did;

which is what they already knew,

because truth and justice
never put food on a table,
or clothes on a back,
noble causes and high ideals
may be fine at dinner parties
and social functions,
but they have never paid
an electric bill,
starvation does not know right or wrong,
it only knows life or death,
and as time goes by
this is the only truth that matters.

40 years ago,
on a bright November day,
in a time when people still believed
what they were told,
when innocence was a luxury
many could still afford,
he threatened to take away
their private war,
which wasn’t good for business,
so they blew his brains out
on a cold Dallas street,
as a whole nation looked on;

killing much more than a man.
.
.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Going Back

It’s never easy going back,
turning around in mid-stream,
fighting the swiftly flowing current,
it can take every ounce of energy
you possess;

it can be a very painful process.

You’re forced to relive
all the mistakes,
all the missed opportunities,
all the ‘shit’ that could have been,
should have been;

it’s not something I recommend
anybody try.

Bad things can happen
when you turn around,
unexpected things,
unforeseen things;
things that would have been better
left undone;

things that should be left in their
rotting, shallow graves.
.
.

Something Special

“If you can’t say it in one page,
then it isn’t worth saying,” he says;

“anything more than one page is a waste!”

I tend to agree,
but sometimes you need just
a little bit more,
sometimes there’s loose ends,
overflow,
excess;

sometimes one page
just isn’t enough.

The problem with most is an
ill conceived notion that quantity
is what counts,
when just the opposite is true,
less is more,
passion the key,
with just a dash of mystery thrown in,
one word with clarity and conviction
is worth a dozen without,
start with a mound of meat,
then cut and chop until
only the bone is left,
leave them thinking about the meat
never tasted;

then you got something special.
.
.

DOR

Early morning sunshine,
green shades of youth,
I remember your energy,
I remember your voice,
it was the voice
of fresh new rain,
it was the energy of life itself;

it was all I heard
it was all I needed.

Then suddenly you were gone,
and everything was different,
the darkness gave way to new light,
springtime breeze smelled like an old
and trusted friend,
silence filled the space where you once lived,
I searched for so long without knowing,
lost in this fog swirling inside,
only the memory of a touch,
an echo of your voice,
so ridiculous,
so hopeless;

and what did it matter?

words never changed one thing,
what will be will be,
our lives nothing without each other,
meaningless without the memories,
in the end we became
our own god and goddess,
forever linked;

I remember now.

The old man looks so hard,
silently watching as life passes by,
moving so fast without a glance,
suddenly gone,
the power no longer there,
he silently returns
to sweeping the sidewalk,
just a fleeting moment;

a blink of the eye.

I hear your voice,
I feel you in the darkness,
I hold you in the night,
your energy fills me up,
I don’t care anymore,
I only want you,
I have traveled so far,
you are so close,
I can smell your freshness
like a new mowed meadow,
nothing matters,
they can take it all,
nothing matters
but you;

I give you all I have.

She searches
for a home to call her own,
with a wisdom
beyond her tender years,
in a life filled with dreams
and broken promises,
she fights back the tears.

I hold her in my arms
as demons give chase throughout
the long cold night,
softly kissing her sweet face
until the early morning light,
I have loved her soul
from the beginning of time,
I have loved her face
forever.
.
.

Verdict

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Ecclesiastes 1:9


“This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil.” John 3:19

Everyday I prepare for battle,
everyday I fight the fight,
some days I win,
some days I lose;

some days I barely break even.

We talk of change,
we hope for a better way,
but at the end of the day
everything remains the same;

there is nothing new under the sun.

We are what we are
because we choose to be,
unable to be anything else,
shadows, disappearing with
the noon day sun,
fodder flailing in the wind,
failing and re-failing,
facsimiles wasting away
like rotting refuse;

guilty as charged.

Where does it all end,
where does it all begin,
like a mighty, rolling river,
flowing from here to there,
without reason,
without rhyme;

where does it all end?

Do not leave me here
in this land of dying corpses,
breathe new life into my lungs,
restore the light before my eyes,
pull me from this drowning world;

bring me home to You.
.
.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Just Believe

Ignoring what they said, Jesus told the synagogue ruler “Don’t be afraid; just believe.”    -   Mark 5:36

In the middle of the night I awake,
gripped with fear,
overcome by the immensity,
afraid of the unknown road ahead,
thinking of all the possible dangers,
unable to control even the smallest detail,
completely inadequate and out of control;

heading on a collision course with disaster.

Then I remember the places
from where I have come,
all the doors that have been opened,
all the chains which have been removed,
the love and grace
that has brought me to this place,
and I hear His soft, cool voice,
gently whispering in the nighttime darkness:

“Don’t be afraid, just believe.”

The fear fades away,
the doubt dissolves into nothing,
the darkness turns to light,
there is only love,
there is only Him;

and that is all that matters.

In the deepest depths,
on the highest heights,
He is there
guiding my path,
showing the way,
the Friend who stands by my side
closer than a brother,
the King who laid down His life
that I might live;

the One who I will love
forever.
.
.

Know One Knows/now I know

...................................

No One Knows

Everyone walks and talks
like they know what’s going on,
like they discovered the answers
long ago;

it took me many years
to figure out,
that no one knows
what’s going on,
that it’s all just
one big act;

all the well tanned,
perfect haircut,
confident looking,
smug faced cock-suckers,
don’t have any more answers
than some junkie
lying out cold
in a stinking alleyway,
and perhaps
they have even less,
or they might be lying
in that alleyway also;

still;

we have to go on pretending,
otherwise
there’s just no point,
so we get our hair cut,
we get up and go to our jobs,
we smile and try to look unconcerned,
all the time fighting the fear
building in our guts,
all the time thinking;

everyone knows
but us.
____________________

now I know

now I know,
why junkies stick needles
in their arms
and lie dying
in back street alleys.

now I know,
why death comes
before the body
actually dies.

now I know
what Christ felt.

now I know,
where people go
when there is
nothing left.

now I know,
just how black
the darkness of the night
can be.

now I know,
just how deep
the bottom
really is.

now I know,
and the needle,
and the powder,
and the shots of whiskey,
and death,
only make it

legitimate.

now I know;

and have lived
to tell about it.
.
.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

These Words

I sometimes wonder why I continue
writing these words down on paper,
I’ve never earned a dime from them,
never had any notoriety or fame
as a result of them,
never had a clue where they come from
or when they will come,
what they will say or why they say it,
it’s as if they have a life of their own,
an ancient mystery complete with their
own laws and consequences.

There is a price to be paid for these words,
a burning sadness that never quits,
a deep, lonely emptiness,
quietly devouring everything in its path,
bringing you to the edge
of a dark bottomless chasm
where untold millions of words
flow like liquid truth into the oblivion below
without return;

they have almost destroyed me
more than once.

You have to be ready,
they come and go like ghosts,
rising from unimaginable depths,
crystal clear like glass,
bobbing and floating,
creating or destroying,
slowly sinking back into
the night without any advance
warning or consideration;

you have to be ready.

These words wait for no one,
they survive beyond this lump
of flesh we call home,
they breathe long after
we take our last breath;

these words are forever.
.
.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Another Day in the Valley

The sky turns grey with
fiery streaks of red,
wood stoves fire up,
smoke rises from chimneys,
a new day dawns.

A train rumbles through the valley,
while the James flows swiftly alongside,
they come more frequently now,
pulling miles of coal cars packed to the brim,
on their way eastward,
replenishing stockpiles in
Richmond and Washington,
preparing for the winter cold,
just as they have
for a hundred years;

it makes you wonder
how much can be left.

In the distance a hawk
soars above Gunter Ridge,
standing naked, bare and exposed,
glistening in the early morning sun,
leaves, three times the size of a mans hand,
cover the nearby ground,
forming a blanket through which the squirrels
scamper to and fro,
deer hunters scour the surrounding forest,
searching for fresh meat and trophies,
hanging the morning kills upside down,
as the blood drips to the ground below;

talking about the ten pointers
that got away.

Everything remains the same,
just as it has for generations,
and you silently think;

why would anybody want it
any other way?
.
.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Rejection

Rejection (again),
I’m beginning to think it’s a rigged game;

it’s always the same,
an apologetic form letter:

Dear (fill in the blank),
Thank you for your submission and interest in our upcoming
anthology/monthly ezine/periodical/(fill in the blank):
‘Under the Yellow Brick Road Beside the Fallen Bridge’
however due to the tremendous volume of material submitted
we are simply unable to include them all (of course this
doesn’t mean they are not worthy of printing), we do hope
you will remember us in the future, and oh by the way,
‘Under the Yellow Brick Road ’ will be available for
the low purchase price of $9.99 in February.

It would almost be beyond bearing
if it wasn’t so comical,
coming from editors of obscure presses
that no one has ever heard of (or ever will),
I always imagine some pathetic little man (or woman),
sitting in a cramped, seedy apartment,
with wet underwear drying on a clothes line,
signing form letters and feeling important
because they were able to
scrape up enough cash
to buy a laptop
and create a web page,
and now they’re an ‘EDITOR’,
putting together chap books and monthly broadsides
with the help of Staples or Kinkos,
along with a few dozen
of their closest friends,
presiding over the monthly readings
and critique sessions at the local library
or Barnes & Nobles,
passing judgment on everyone and everything
which does not fit their
preconceived ideas or molds.

Yes, it is very comical and pathetic;

although ‘EDITOR’ does have a nice ring to it,
and I have been thinking about building a webpage,
and there is a Staples right down the street;

if you can’t beat em,
might as well join em;

I sure wish that underwear
would hurry up and dry.
.
.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Storybooks

It has been a long time,
and many changes in between,
so many worn out words
that we really didn’t mean,
there have been others,
some that I loved more,
but I never gave up hope,
that someday you would
come knocking on my door;

and you may say
I’m not the person
I once used to be,
but I am who I always was,
this is just the person
you could never see.

Sometimes I think of how things
could have been,
but we never could’ve gone very far,
you travel the roads of this world,
while I was born to ride a star,
and for now you may laugh
at these words you don’t understand,
but in time will be revealed
the rock lying beneath this sand,
think of me then and know,
that if I could, our lives would be changed,
but like two actors up on a stage
the roles we play were already pre-arranged.

You and I were nothing but storybooks
from which we both could learn,
going our separate ways
when there were no more pages
left to turn.
.
.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

November 12th

Come,
let us talk of laughter and love,
lovers and lost youth,
kisses,
warm and moist,
on the back of a
long forgotten porch,
beneath cool crisp
autumn skies;

I can still taste it
to this day.

I have not forgotten,
only learned to hide away
that which could never be,
and that which never was,
sometimes I wonder
if there has ever been another,
somehow it always
comes back to you,
still it does not matter;

and perhaps
It never did.

Occasionally,
when least expected,
the fire flares up,
raging wildly out of control,
but I have learned
to let it burn itself out,
then it will die down;

as it always does.
.
.

Words

“You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good? For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in him. But I tell you that men will give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned.”    Matthew 12:34-37

When it comes to words
it has always been all or nothing,
words have been my best friends,
my only companions,
my slaves,
my sluts,
my bitches,
my lovers,
my fantasies,
my obsessions,
my masters;

my salvation.

I have used words
like a healing salve,
spreading them like butter
on unseen cuts and gashes
until there was nothing left,
a silent barrier
behind which I could bury
all the loneliness and tears;

words have been there
when there was nothing else.

Words should not be wasted
on summer roofing jobs
or dead Italian uncles,
but then again one MFA
is worth about 2 nights
in the gutter,
following 5 day benders
which you can barely remember,
or one week
in a cock-roach infested hotel,
with rats so big
they stand on their hind legs
and beg like trained circus seals,
all the while
daring you to do
something about it,
and all the while knowing
that you won’t,
it’s moments like that
when you understand words
you never knew existed,
words you will never learn
at Harvard, or Princeton,
or Vassar,
as you slowly sip a bottle
of Wild Irish Rose, or Thunderbird
or Mad Dog 20/20.

Of course,
I have used words to describe
every act of perversion,
every known degradation,
every dark empty thought
existing with the human soul;

so who am I to judge?

Words are clay
in the hands
of a skilled artist,
waiting to be sculpted
into an unknown beauty
that defies description,
they are the face
of a cruel tragedy,
beyond the limits
which our relatively simple minds
can even begin to fathom;

words are nothing,
words are everything,
by your words
you will be condemned,
by your words
you will be freed;

so choose your words
wisely.
.
.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Frenzy

The storm clouds gather,
rising on the distant horizon;

this new place,
this other reality,
this far off land where
nightfall never ends;

what is left?
what more can be said?
does no one listen?
does no one hear?

does the madness never end?

Today I would have given
you everything,
yet nothing is all you took,
tomorrow’s troubles
bring fresh sorrows
all their own,
as freshly killed bodies
float like chum on the surface,
being devoured by ravenous lizards
frantically joining in the
morning frenzy;

I wish it were not so.

This life is no life,
it changes and rearranges,
ebbing and flowing,
never coming to completion,
creations of a creator,
children of light
trapped within the darkness,
temporary, transient
and conciliatory,
blinded to the truth hidden
before our eyes;

the great illusion
we choose to believe;

deceiving and being deceived,
wounding and being wounded,
hurting and being hurt,
feeding off the leftovers,
running for the scraps;

hiding within the cracks.
.
.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

American News

American News – proof that in today's age of sophisticated mass communications, if you say something often enough, or loud enough, eventually it becomes truth to many, whether it has any factual basis or not.

“Look at the nations and watch – and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.” Habakkuk 1:5


Will not all of them taunt him with ridicule and scorn saying, “Woe to him who piles up stolen goods and makes himself wealthy by extortion! How long must this go on?” Will not your debtors suddenly arise? Will they not wake up and make you tremble? Then you will become their victim. Because you have plundered many nations, the people who are left will plunder you. For you have shed man’s blood, you have destroyed lands and cities and everyone in them. “Woe to him who builds his realm by unjust gain to set his nest on high, to escape the clutches of ruin! You have plotted the ruin of many peoples, shaming your own house and forfeiting your life. The stones of the wall will cry out, and the beams of the woodwork will echo it. Woe to him who builds a city with bloodshed and establishes a town by crime!” Habakkuk 2:6-12

America has become a land of mindless sheep,
being led by corrupt shepherds
and hidden agendas,
blindly running to and fro,
searching for the latest ‘miracle’ cure,
spending all their time and money,
listening to anyone offering answers,
speaking lies disguised as truth,
slaves to their greatest fears;

a land beyond promise or hope.

Seeking shelter from the gathering storm,
not willing to accept the consequences,
unable to confess the guilt,
killing in the name of justice,
denying the greed and self-preservation,
turning a blind eye to the haves
against the have-nots,
deciding who is right and who is wrong,
who lives and who dies,
a land of hypocrisy and dry bones,
dying before they are dead;

trapped within chains
of their own making.
.
.

Monday, November 7, 2011

No Mistakes

I lose track of the days,
in this life
that is no life,
holding on,
slipping farther away,
feeding hungers and lies
that know no limits,
desperately reaching out
for the truth that heals,
silently seeking redemption
in a ravenous world
that consumes
everything in sight,
speaking wisdom
as empty as the chains
with which it speaks.

Outside is death and mourning,
wailing and destruction,
but in here we are safe;

perhaps;

addicted to our deceptions,
our lies, our diseases,
deceived by our illusions,
trapped in the cages,
drowning in the cesspools,
surrounded by the swamps.

We make our choices,
we choose failure over success,
we cry and scream,
we search and dream,
but we make our own choices.

There are no mistakes,
in the end we become
what we are,
monsters of our own making,
creations of our own choosing,
monsters and demons,
basking in the warm, electric glow
of the sinister excitement,
living vicariously through
their evil existence;

we alone choose.

There are no mistakes,
in our ineptitude
we bumble along,
careening down paths
without a clue,
blindly searching for the truth
and light,
and sun,
and sky,
but there are no mistakes,
it is all as intended,
every word,
every second,
every moment,
every shit,
every fuck,
every amen;

there are no mistakes.
.
.

And The Band Played On

But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God – having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with them. II Timothy3:1-5

Pain becomes the new laughter,
sorrow the flavor of the day,
hurtful words
the drug of choice,
lovers of self,
stone cold shells,
hearts of steel,
anything goes
in make believe worlds
where nothing is real,
sliding into depths
of decadence and decay;

and the band played on.

We soothe the fear
while hiding the emptiness,
making way for a tomorrow
full of distant despair,
time passes by,
madness breeds the future,
breathing life
into strange new creations
with no room for mercy
or compassion;

and the band played on.

We want reassurance,
we want good times,
we want vindication,
we want guarantees;

and the band played on.

Inside the flesh rots
like butter
in the warm summer sun,
continually searching,
continually seeking,
new horizons among the chaos,
feeding off the lust,
surviving on the greed,
drowning in the filth,
laying waste
to all that moves,
misunderstanding the new art,
and at the end of the day
emptiness all that is left;

sometimes survival
is recreation enough.

We live life in moments,
monuments frozen in time,
desperately holding on,
hopelessly watching,
slipping like smooth silk sand
through our porous fingertips.

We are flawed,
everyone of us,
it is not of our doing,
but we are flawed
just the same,
imperfections within the rubbish,
scarred bloody stumps
of all that we could have been,
all that should have been,
fit for nothing
but the furnace fire,
without defense,
without hope,
pointing fingers and shaking our heads,
feeling somehow superior,
above the filth,
better than the ‘sinners’,
but inside
we are all the same,
grubby little insects
seeking redemption,
crying out in pain
without making a sound,
tear down the walls,
never let them rise again,
replace the darkness
with the light,
let it shine into the cold
black night;

no matter how hard we try
we can never put it out.

Something is lost
within this carnivorous cavern,
prosperity weakens
in the face of disaster,
with destruction
comes renewal,
with death
begins life,
won’t You help me
find the door?
won’t You show me
the truth?
won’t You rescue me
from the storm?

Like a river it flows,
sometimes violent,
sometimes gentle,
on and on,
no beginning,
no end;

like a mighty wind it blows,
from here to there,
from where no one knows,
to where even less;

heroes and hormones never die,
they go on and on forever
in this wilderness where
the sun never sets,
inside hallowed halls of glory
filled with words of hope,
the midday shadows grow long,
the hunger remains the same
despite twists and turns,
assuming new shapes,
twisting and turning,
resurfacing in different forms,
the morning grows tired of the noise,
still it goes on,
flowing like before,
blowing into the night,
still it goes on;

no one listens,
no one hears.

Sleep well my friend,
the morning comes
soon enough,
the nighttime will fade
into the growing morning light;

and the band played on.

We hide inside our houses,
dreaming;
dreaming of the tomorrows,
imagining the possibilities,
running from the darkness,
mystified by the mystery,
trapped within the illusion,
waiting for the destination;

forever seeing,
but never knowing;

forever hearing,
but never understanding.

If it were up to me
I would stay in this place,
seeking shelter from the storm,
being swallowed up by the myth,
drowning in the depths,
growing cold from the emptiness,
guarding Your truth
like a rare and precious jewel,
but Your grace knows better,
You lead me past the mistakes,
through the traps and snares,
beyond myself;

and somewhere the band
no longer plays,
someday the light
will come flooding through,
providing vindication
for even the weakest part,
shredding the illusions,
destroying the misconceptions;

speaking the truth.
.
.

Wept (Alpha)

As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace – but now it is hidden from your eyes.” Luke 19:41-42

I do not weep for the truth,
I weep because of the truth;

I weep for the futility,
I weep for the loss,
I weep for the waste,
I weep for the hopelessness.

I weep for the children,
I weep for the tragedy,
I weep for the sorrow,
I weep for the suffering,




I weep for the inevitability.
.
.

National Health Care

Attention
my fellow Americans,
the government,
along with the leaders
of the corporate
and business world,
are working in conjunction
on a long term plan
to solve the country’s
current health care crisis,
and the solution
we have come up with
is called;

death.

Yes, that is correct,
it really isn’t such a bad plan
if you just take the time
to think about it,
you work while you’re young,
then when you get sick
or too old to work,
or require expensive
prescription medicine to get by;

you die.

It works for the good of all,
it helps keep America strong,
and that’s what we all want isn’t it?
and just think of all the good
it will do for the younger generation,
it will mean a constantly growing job market
(due to the high turnover),
and will save all the costs of Medicare,
which will free up a large chunk of change
for the national defense;

those cruise missiles aren’t cheap
you know,

and we all know that a good defense
is a strong offense,
and boy we sure do have
a lot of offensive plans
for the future,
now that we
have assumed the role
of world policemen (and women),
of course the growing military
commitments
will create many new jobs
for the young in and of itself,
so you see it’s all being handled,
nice neat and clean;

just like you
wanted it.

Now if those of you 55 or older,
or who are currently taking more
than 3 prescription drugs
could just report
to your local health department,
we’ll put this bold
and innovative new plan
into effect;

government officials and
the independently wealthy
need not report,
wouldn’t be good for the economy,
bad for job creation
and all that other bullshit;

you understand of course.
.
.

Monday, October 31, 2011

Shadows

We sit among these growing shadows,
standing on the brink of an unknown tomorrow,
hiding somewhere between the darkness and the light,
safe within this land of perpetual sorrow.

Moments come and moments go my dear one,
leaving only traces they were here at all,
this moment we hold alone,
free from a land full of killers and madness,
a world of defined boundaries and limits,
designed to imprison all that live within their deadly gates;
and to you do I say:

that it is better to lie here among these shadows with you,
than to walk among the light with any other,
better to have tasted your love even for a moment,
than spend a lifetime without it.
.
.

Teach Your Children Well

We thought we could change the world,
a new society,
the great experiment,
that we were different,
knew more, knew better,
part of the solution
not part the problem,
make love not war,
tune in, drop out,
hell no, we won’t go,
rebels with a cause,
defenders of the righteous,
crusaders of a higher standard,
a new code;

instead we became
more of the same.

Hypocrites within a world
of hypocrites,
masters of enlightenment
without light,
monsters disguised as
children of peace,
dogs licking up
their own vomit,
white-washed sepulchers,
dry bones,
sheep without a Shepard,
we fooled the world;

we fooled ourselves.

We became draft dodgers
and activists,
poets and musicians,
stock brokers and analysts,
doctors and lawyers;

anything
but our mothers and fathers;

we became consumers,
we became users,
we became takers;

we became the future.

We consumed
until there was nothing
left to consume,
we took
until there was nothing
left to take,
we used up what belonged
to our children,
we spent the future
of our grandchildren,
but even that wasn’t enough,
we pointed our fingers,
we blamed the man,
we blamed the over thirty crowd,
only to realize
we had become the man;

we were the over
thirty crowd.

It was all about us,
the ‘me’ generation,
gods of our
own making;

we taught our
children well.
.
.

Naked

When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves. Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?” He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.” And he said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree I commanded you not to eat from?”    Genesis 3:6-11


“You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see. Those to whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him and he with me.”   Revelation 3:17-20

Once more you open my eyes,
showing me just how blind
I really am,
how wretched, pitiful and poor
I have become,
revealing the evil lurking inside,
uncovering all the filth,
the inadequacies,
the incompleteness,
the nakedness;

Lord I am so far away!

I hear Your voice,
softly counseling,
gently rebuking,
quietly disciplining;

reminding me of the path
which leads to You.

Father, remove this darkness
once again,
heal the wounds
as only You can,
renew all that I am,
fill me with Your precious
Holy Spirit,
bathe me in Your glorious light;

make me a son
of the living God.
.
.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Choices

All day long
I work with
little people
trying to make
big noises;

they are everywhere.

Sometimes they succeed,
sometimes they don’t,
but when it is all over
they sure do feel good
about themselves,
even though
everything they do
doesn’t mean shit
to anybody
but themselves.

You can choose
to take the world
by storm,
or you can choose
to ignore it
altogether,
either way
the choice
is yours,
and either way
the end;

is exactly
the same.
.
.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Bureaucrats

Bureaucrats always think
they are on the side of right,
no matter how wrong or unjust
that side might be,
never seeing themselves
through the eyes
of their victims,
never understanding
the rights of individuals
over the authority of the system.

Despots and tyrants could not exist
without their bureaucrats,
someone to stamp the orders,
file the paperwork,
ensuring the trains run on time
to places like Auschwitz and Treblinka,
providing a well functioning
slave market to feed
the king cotton industry,
hiding the suffering and misery
behind walls of official sounding
legal jargon,
vital cogs in the machine,
mindless,
robotic,
the darkness
behind the evil,
good people
just doing their job;

pathetic
little worms.
.
.

Monday, October 3, 2011

There is No Fairness in Virginia

There is no fairness in Virginia,
like a brood of vipers,
sitting in their Richmond offices,
hiding behind their chivalry,
their mollified gentility,
their heritage;
basking in their

‘moral superiority’.

Pompous bureaucrats
playing politics,
making self-serving policies,
passing discriminatory laws,
destroying people and lives
in the process,
then throwing up their hands;

“sorry, it’s the law”.

All the time
smiling in your face,
using long drawn out
gracious words
dripping with hypocrisy,
stating well rehearsed
company lines,
providing legal and
self-righteous justification,
then laughing
behind your back.

A soulless people
trapped within their
own self-deception,
blinded by their
'right to do so',
despite the cost
to those helpless
to fight back;

a conquered nation
seeking revenge.
.
.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

None But You

Therefore Jesus said again, “I tell you the truth, I am the gate for the sheep. All who ever came before me were thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. He will come in and go out, and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” John 10:7-10

Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved. Acts 4:12

The night time sky approaches,
the last rays of sunlight
break through distant storm clouds,
small patches of blue linger,
creating pools of tranquility
within the departing maelstrom,
it is here I seek Your refuge,
it is here I hold on to Your hope
for just a moment more.

Another day comes,
another day goes,
the cost slowly taking its toll,
rising and falling with each
passing breath,
all the meaningless decisions pass,
all the thoughtless words fade,
still Your love remains,
still You pour out Your blessings
where none are deserved;

light within the darkness,
life inside this death.

Who can speak of wonders
which words can never say?
Who can understand mysteries
which can never be known?

none but You Lord,
none but You.
.
.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Desperation

Now the end may begin,
lost in this swirling
world of never,
eyes dressed incognito,
egos disguised by humility,
enemies in the shape of friends
make for the worst
of them all,
you never see them coming
until they have passed you by;

and by then
it’s always too late.

The movement continues
like liquid wildfire,
consuming all there is,
right or wrong hanging within
a delicate balance,
fools following forsaken
roads of folly,
on their way to this or that,
innocence never the issue,
something for nothing,
one for all,
everything for anybody,
some things for nobody.

This garden no longer grows,
fruit lies dying on the vine,
hope has no future here,
fertility fails,
fixations no longer provide a thrill,
sinking deep into the
oblivion below,
sink or swim,
desperation makes a strong argument
for justification,
survival separates the living
from the dead;

words once spoken
can never be returned.
.
.

She Doesn't Need Anybody

She doesn’t need you,
she doesn’t need anybody,
never has,
never will;

but still;

she hesitates for just a moment,
remembering a long forgotten
touch,
an embrace,
a kiss,
innocent and sweet,
tender and pure,
warm and moist,
it was the last time
she felt love,
it was the last time
she felt alive.

The moment passes,
never to return,
nothing speaks like silence;

she doesn’t need anybody;

and you love her
even more.
.
.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

If These Hills Could Talk

If these hills could talk,
what tales they might tell;

moonlit nights,
modified muscle cars,
racing down winding,
mountain roads,
delivering fresh batches
of weekly ‘shine’
to bars and honky-tonks
across the Roanoke Valley,
missing revenuers,
never to be seen again,
tucked safely in isolated
gullies and ravines,
their rotting bones
all that is left,
camouflaged fields of
the new ‘cash crop’,
growing undisturbed until
ready for market;

the armies of Grant and Lee,
flanking and counter-flanking,
trying to gain the higher ground,
each seeking an advantage,
the dead from forays
and undocumented skirmishes,
slowly dissolving into the
rocks and clay,
providing food for scavengers
and worms;

ancient rock altars,
built upon a solitary ridge,
overlooking the valley far below,
shameful family secrets,
locked away for more generations
than anyone can remember,
silence the unspoken code;

if these hills could only talk.
.
.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Everything in its Place

He replied, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you. However do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”       Luke 10:18-20



Everything in its time,
everything in its place,
everything changes,
everything remains the same;

the wind blows where it will.

Who knows the approaching shadows?
Who understands the raging depths?
Who can see this terrible darkness?

the growing tempest looms
on the far off horizon;

it has begun,
it is finished.

“Nothing will harm you”

everything is temporary,
everything fades,
this never ending dream
rises like some ancient
early morning mist,
building from ashes
long since past,
as the day comes for those
who hold on to tomorrow;

while the night waits for the rest.

Here we shall fall,
here we shall stand;

if I only could,
you know I certainly would;

for everything there is a cost,
for everything there is a loss;

you were mine,
and I was yours.
.
.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

The Final Frontier

By myself I have sworn, my mouth has uttered in all integrity a word that will not be revoked; Before me every knee will bow, by me every tongue will swear. Isaiah 45:23

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. Philippians 2:9-11

At last,
the final frontier,
prison bars removed,
iniquity and filth
buried in the ground,
freedom forever;

fear and doubt
no more.

So close,
the taste burns
within your dry,
empty mouth,
truth uninterrupted,
light without limit,
glory beyond imagination,
flesh without sin;

life without death.

It is here,
You have brought me,
it is now
for which I have waited,
perfect power,
pure and unblemished;

every knee shall bow,
every tongue shall confess.
.
.

Followers

Blog Archive