Forever Nameless

I try to hold you forever,

I want to breathe you like air,

I burn your image in my mind,

never to forget, never letting go,

but it does no good, like all things, you fade,

like all things, you disappear,

nothing lasts, nothing remains,

soon, it never will be,

tomorrow all that matters,

yesterday dead and gone;

I am tired of being on the outside,

never here, never there,

just somewhere else,

seeing what others do not,

knowing what no one should,

shadows best left untouched,

trapped within, lost upon this endless sea,

the horizon looming up ahead,

with no land in sight.

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Trap

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

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight. Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD and shun evil. This will bring health to your body and nourishment to your bones.   Proverbs 3:5-8

the fear grows, the panic sets in, another tyrant,

another war, another group of evil doers,

pointing fingers, assigning blame,

passing judgment, plotting retribution,

giving in to emotions, deceived by the illusion;

falling into the trap;

in it all there is fear,

in it all there is self-preservation,

in it all there is greed;

I no longer participate in this self-illusion,

this mockery, this secret subterfuge,

this moral dilemma, it is what it is,

nothing can change it, nothing can undo it,

darkness knows not mercy,

evil has it’s day;

good people, blinded by hate,

drowning in the cesspool of their own

self-righteousness, blinded by their own self-worth,

slaves to their preconceived ideas,

prisoners of their dying flesh,

controlled by their irrational fears,

forever repeating history,

forever trusting in their imperfect

and limited comprehension,

nothing has changed, nothing is new,

just a different name, another place;

forever falling into the trap;

everyday Your grace begins anew,

everyday You open the door,

everyday You help me to rise,

everyday You teach me more.

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gypsy (gimme shelter)©

she lives within, like a

faraway dream,

a wild raging river,

running dangerously out

of control,

a dark, passionate gypsy,

who can never be tamed,

flying like the wind,

disappearing with the evening

sun;

she is everything,

she is nothing,

she is here,

she is gone;

it’s just a shot away,

it’s just a shot away; ©

you fight with every ounce

of strength you possess,

you run as fast and as far

as you possibly can,

you hold out for as long

as time allows,

you sell yourself to the

highest bidder,

pretending it doesn’t matter,

telling yourself it is

just another one,

that it will pass like all the rest,

but it is not enough,

you find yourself

wanting more,

she has you for the taking;

it’s just a kiss away,

it’s just a kiss away; ©

and you wonder what shelter

exist for this,

what refuge is left,

what cure;

it’s just a shot away,

it’s just a shot away. ©

© ‘gimme shelter’, ‘it’s just a shot away’ ‘it’s just a kiss away’ – Rolling Stones (Richards/Jagger)

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Warrior

the thundering hooves sound like mighty cannons,

ponies of war scream out their cries of rage,

closer they come,

louder they scream,

until the sound is deafening,

as even the mightiest creature runs in fear,

from their great and terrible power,

like lightning, they strike down the enemy,

laying waste to whatever moves,

destroying all that lives;

with cold, sullen eyes,

the warrior stares at the broken bodies,

that once were men,

he takes no pleasure in death,

only in the sweetness of survival,

in the warmth, of another breath;

from the early morning mist,

he rises,

his eyes have seen the coming

of a new day,

his heart has known the joy

of another battle,

proudly he stretches forth

his scarred and bloody hands,

giving thanks to the creator,

for all things;

good and bad.

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Merrill Lynch

ticker tapes

ticking,

investments

dropping,

quiet whispers,

deadly serious

panic,

downcast eyes,

the future

looking black,

god, please

don’t tell us,

we’ll have to actually

work

again;

here’s the investment tip

of the week!

……… you ready?

okay;

here it is;

psst! ………. 44 MAGNUM!

(keep it to yourself)

AK 47s don’t look bad either,

I’d shy away from Uzis though,

(not enough penetrating power).

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Rage

can you feel it?

it lies just beneath the surface,

it’s in the eyes, it’s on the lips,

of everyone who passes by;

rage;

like a dark, angry cloud,

waiting to explode,

crying to strike out,

destroying all that was,

and all that will be;

rage;

for lies told,

in the name of truth,

for forgotten streets traveled,

but never remembered,

for empty dreams,

swallowed up by hungry governments,

mad with power,

jealous with;

rage;

like a fire,

it consumes everything,

then spits it out,

screaming for annihilation;

rage.

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Champions

how can there be;

right or wrong,

good or bad,

yes and no;

every breath is unique,

every voice a beacon by which

the truth might call,

judgment a foreign army,

occupying a land not of its own;

the morning begins just as it left,

the breaking day looms ahead,

the trail bending and unclear,

moving forward with unsettled uncertainty;

there is very little choice;

illusion remains,

weaving its way into the fabric of the myth,

mystery hovers like a descending bird,

with death lying in wait;

mourning the only light

ever known;

I watch these children,

they have more than what

could be considered humanly possible,

giants in a forest of dwarfs,

victors in a  world of defeat;

champions amidst

the obscurity.

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this dream

the moments come and go,

just a different twist, a fairer fate,

another turn, a better choice,

life and death, darkness or light,

nothing and everything,

something else;

we come so close;

83 dead, the silence shattered,

as the gunman reloads,

Louisville in mourning,

there are things never forgotten;

who is to say?

who is to know?

does it never end?

the sun rises, a new day’s heat begins,

suffocating and choking,

flesh melting like yesterday’s butter,

chard and putrid, fresh rubber sizzling

like bacon in grease on the soft asphalt surface,

one more on the road, out of the frying pan

and into the fire;

another one tastes the dust;

take it away,

let it be no more,

bring about an end,

take it from my eyes,

take it from my mind,

this whisper, this hush;

this dream.

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Light of the World

all creation holds its breath,

on this silent night of nights,

yearning for deliverance,

groaning like a woman giving birth,

patiently waiting for the moment to begin,

salvation from the cries of an infant;

redemption through the sacrifice of a King;

Hope of hope, Savior of the lost,

Light of the world,

what gift can be laid at Your feet?

what price can be paid to satisfy the cost?

the angels sing Your praise,

all in heaven and earth,

bow before Your glorious throne,

the blessed lamb of God,

the righteous Judge of judges,

the mighty King of kings,

the holy Son of God;

Hope of hope, Savior of the lost,

Light of the world,

what gift can be laid at Your feet?

what price can be paid to satisfy the cost?

look down on us now,

see the ignorance of our ways,

forgive the arrogance of our

hardened hearts,

heal the damage we have done;

make us more than we are;

Hope of hope, Savior of the lost,

Light of the world,

what gift can be laid at Your feet?

what price can be paid to satisfy the cost?

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Never Was

out here in this wasted space,

no one hears the silence,

no one knows the loss,

alone and holding on,

waiting for imaginary rescues

among lost and broken places,

hiding behind enemy lines,

crawling on hands and knees

between burned out bunkers,

full of dry, empty words;

never quite reaching the mark;

old debts return, tears rain down like

sweet summer sweat, holding on until

there is nothing left;

without hope,

without chance;

beautiful dreams flow like a river,

on their way to imaginary seas,

dancing like butterflies on the morning wind,

echoing sounds of magic within the caverns

of mindless souls;

one more time,

traveling down long and lonesome roads,

searching for a home inside lost and empty ruins,

running from fantasies that never were,

living within upside down dreams

which come and go;

over before it began;

my eyes have seen what others have not,

my heart has known that which no heart should;

sometimes the greatest love,

is that which never was.

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We Are Gone

in the spring, you may look for us,

but nothing is all you will find,

for we are gone, traveling the hills westward,

soaring over mountain peeks,

gliding through sunken valleys;

we are gone;

left behind, with all the recycled trash,

yesterday’s news, trapped within the hollow strands

of tomorrow’s tragedy,

laboriously flailing along, like forgotten refugees,

displaced by new dreams and decaying winter filth;

we are gone;

do not look in hidden summer sanctuaries,

nor behind effervescent nooks and crannies,

the dawn will bring no more questions,

the sky no more answers,

mystery bemoans her children,

destiny awakens from its slumber,

we have become the evening shadows;

all things fade, all things disappear,

all things end;

we are gone.

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The Clock is Ticking

walking this beach,

there is a feeling of incompleteness,

restlessness, unfinished business;

paupers, waiting for the axe to fall;

so much suffering, so much dying,

does anyone deserve this?

like a side of beef,

she leads me to this place,

selling me to the highest bidder,

giving up without a fight,

no resistance, no struggle;

only shame;

there is a depth here,

untold symmetry,

flapping and unfurling

with the newborn sun,

words come easy,

light and free,

no longer encumbered

by stones of inertia,

shooting through the limited

nighttime sky with

a touch of innocence;

there is a depth here;

this boiling sun is no longer a home,

this raging sea provides no relief,

old bones come home to roost,

the clock is ticking;

time is running out.

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Forever Gone

we are all terminal,

waiting for a final diagnosis,

transients living transitory lives,

making temporary arrangements,

in a temporary world,

deciding on choices and decisions,

which fade like the early morning mist;

the choice is not ours;

this is not the life I wanted it to be,

I am not the man I thought I would be,

not the person I pretend to be,

some unknown creature, lost and far away,

surrounded by unseen chains and bars;

the past is never far away;

the pain grows deeper,

the suffering more intense,

the nighttime darkness closes in,

the silence quietly returns,

doors close without mercy;

we reap what we sow;

searching for a Way,

trusting in the Truth,

waiting for the Light,

today a new day dawned,

You have restored all that was lost,

once more, You pull me from this

prison of self-absorption;

the misery forever gone.

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Damaged

To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.  Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me.  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.   II Corinthians 12:7-10

it’s not easy, accepting that you are permanently damaged,

a cripple, handicapped, less than normal;

less than a man;

that you’ll never run again, never move freely again,

never be fast and agile again, never be without pain,

never be without suffering;

never be without hardship;

it’s not easy, but you adjust,

you get by, you take more pills for the pain,

you learn to move slower, you accept the inevitable,

you patiently wait for the collapse,

all the time knowing, it’s only flesh and blood,

only bone and nerve endings,

only a temporary illusion;

here today,

gone tomorrow;

you think about old girlfriends,

you think about memories from the past,

you remember 55 yard touchdown runs

and inside the park homeruns,

you remember doing things others only dream about,

and you come to the realization that all-in-all,

it’s been a pretty fair deal,

nothing to cry over, nothing to be bitter about,

just another speed bump along the way,

one more trial, one more test;

one more obstacle to overcome;

you remember the words of the apostle Paul,

you remember that he too toiled and suffered,

you remember that there are things

much bigger in this life, much more important

than the bodies in which we are housed;

that power is made perfect

in weakness;

thank you Jesus,

for Your magnificent mercy and grace,

thank You for my life,

thank You for making me a son of the living God,

thank You for the peace and joy You have

placed within my heart,

thank You for the suffering and sacrifice

endured for me,

thank You for being my Lord,

thank You for being my King;

thank You for being my Everything.

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What We Have Become

This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy. Without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good. Traitors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.   II Timothy 3:1-5

easy to mock now,

no more barriers,

no more inhibitions,

godlessness avant-garde,

cool, hip, chic;

truth irrelevant;

poetry an abstraction,

a train wrecked shambles,

a self-indulgent journey into

self-imposed decadence,

masturbation of the mind;

without rhyme,

without reason;

snotty, excitable little twits,

so full of themselves they can barely walk,

writing about things they understand

even less,

fluffy little balls of bullshit,

stuck in the diarrhea of their words,

political correction and self-satisfaction,

going hand in hand;

a religion for the masses;

everyone is a poet today,

everyone a self-made god,

everyone is okay and getting better,

everyone capable of greatness,

everyone a master of their own fate;

it is our culture,

it is our society,

it is our psychology,

it is our national anthem;

it is what we have become.

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A New Day

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.   II Corinthians 12:9

the sun rises on the distant horizon,

a new day dawns;

searching for so long,

running from masters served,

surrounded by prison bars,

caught in unseen traps and chains,

a prisoner of this flesh and blood,

fighting a war I can never win;

do the battles ever end?

then Your spirit quietly speaks,

the peace and joy return,

the fear and doubt fade,

the darkness retreats,

hope grows;

a slave no more;

the pain melts away,

falling like the evening stars,

Your light shines upon me,

like a beacon in the night,

there is You, and nothing else matters,

Your glory is all there is;

Your grace is enough;

look down on me now Lord,

see the weakness within,

forgive the compromise and betrayal,

remove the evil standing before me,

raise me above the destruction,

carry me through the growing storm,

protect me from the enemy waiting

just outside this door;

bring me home to You.

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Up Here

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 Timothy 3:1-5

up here I hear your voice,

whispering through the early morning silence,

up here I am never alone,

up here You walk with me;

comforting me,

carrying me,

guiding me,

protecting me;

down there,

You are reduced to a psychology,

a feel-good philosophy,

a self-improvement technique,

a better way of life,

blaspheming Your name,

making a mockery of Your kingdom,

denying the power;

forever looking but never seeing,

forever listening but never hearing;

You are so much more,

far beyond all that our limited minds

can comprehend,

more than anyone can fathom,

Giver of life, Creator of all things;

the Great I Am,

the Holy King of the universe,

the Alpha and the Omega;

Everything.

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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 within the mountain streams,

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, 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.

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Power

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

Your power is beyond all this world can comprehend,

like a philosophy or psychology,

they 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 Your power I am given 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 Your power I begin to understand,

through the Holy Spirit I start 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, beyond words,

without compare,

a world where I can only fall down

before You, whispering;

my Lord,

my Master,

my King;

my Everything.

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The Last Song

lately my writing has become much like my lovemaking,

the desire is still there, but the potency has long since gone,

I suppose the two go hand-in-hand, there were many times when

words were just an extension of certain body parts,

so perhaps there is some validity to this observation,

now the question is;

can it be more?

and for this

I have no answer;

the fire is going out, many areas of my life are dying,

some days I cannot even remember the point,

and that is a very dangerous place to be,

I am slowly being reduced to one side of the fence or the other,

no more in-between, no more middle-of-the-road,

no more shades of gray, no more lukewarm,

hot or cold, black or white,

life or death;

life changing decisions,

require life changing choices;

there is much I could say to you,

but nothing can undo the hurt I caused you,

nothing can bring back the life I stole from you,

nothing can make right the wrong I did to you,

everything has come down to this moment;

the last poem,

the last word,

the last song.

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Commodities

There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs.   Luke 12:2-3

All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles and creatures of the sea are being tamed by man, but no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.   James 3:7-8 

pride blinds the eyes of those it fills,

creating illusions and deceptions,

turning brother against brother,

sister against sister,

breaking friendships and bonds,

destroying everything in its path;

words spoken in the darkness,

find their way into the light;

you choose your relationships like commodities,

something to hold on too when they are useful,

something to toss out like morning trash,

when they are not;

we are all filthy rags, we have all fallen short,

eventually we all fail, no matter how many

positive thoughts we fill our minds with,

no matter what fantasies we choose to live in,

no matter how much knowledge we think we know,

no matter what bold words our tongues spew forth;

in the end,

truth is all that survives.

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Sand Creek

Sand Creek;

the truth dances like a ghost,

a mighty whisper on the wind,

who will hear the voices through

the silence of the night?

who will right the wrong?

hard to love, when so much

injustice abounds,

hard to forgive, when innocent blood

runs across stolen ground;

dirty little secrets,

of which no one speaks,

dark moments in history,

many would prefer to forget,

but you can never escape the past,

it follows you like a shadow,

softly surrounding you like a glove,

slowly becoming a part of who you are,

all the treachery and cowardice revealed,

souls laid bare, the self-made bravado

and false heroics, silently exposed,

sons of murderers, daughters of liars and thieves,

descendants of swine, a little lower than dogs,

somewhat less than human;

without honor,

without dignity,

without hope;

their homes built upon hypocrisy and greed,

their tongues filled with misconceptions and lies,

their legacy standing like a wavering deck of cards,

waiting to crash down on their guilt-ridden heads;

Sand Creek remembers.

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