Tuesday, November 28, 2017

I Thirst













I thirst O Lord
for Your wisdom and knowledge,
I hunger for Your love and peace,
I live for Your truth and light,
I seek Your mercy and grace;
Your words
lie resting within my soul
like rare and precious jewels,
perfect in every way,
shining brilliant and bright,
worth more than all the wealth
of the world,
providing depth and understanding
beyond my limited comprehension,
opening my blinded eyes,
bringing new vision and hope;
deliver me O Lord
from the evil of this eternal night,
hold my hand until the end,
help me rise above the moment,
free me from the enemy’s traps and snares,
guide my journey along these
dark and treacherous paths,
forgive my trespasses,
see past my weakness,
allow me to be a witness
to Your never ending glory,
let my lips praise
Your righteous and holy name;
to You do I belong,
in You shall I remain,
my Lord,
my King,
my Savior,
my God,
my Everything;
I thirst O Lord
for You.
.

.

shopping malls


















the wind blows,
words fly,
meaningless rubbish
heaped upon endless piles
of generations lost
as sacred vows
lie bleeding
on scarlet fields of honor
for which so much
was lost
only to be replaced
by multi-level
shopping malls
where the flocks gather
for their midnight feast
and nothing is heard
but that which is nothing
shining in its blinding
deafening roar
for which there is no defense
only right and left
as shadows
fall upon raging fires
burning the souls
of the anguished spectators
.

.

Monday, November 27, 2017

39 years




























39 years ago
39 years ago
we began a journey,
neither of us knowing
where it would lead;
together we have shared the good
while surviving the bad,
crossing lines and barriers
until I no longer know
where you begin
and I end;
you have shown me tomorrows
all the time withstanding
the yesterdays,
and for this
I will love you forever.
_______________________________________________
A Dime A Dozen

there are many things
I want to say to her,
I want to tell her I am sorry
for the pain
I have put her through
time after time,
for the love I have thrown away
again and again,
for the life I stole from her
so many years ago;
so many things;
but I have said them all before,
only to rip her heart out and
smash it on the
stone cold ground;
so I don’t;
I always mean every word I say
at the moment it is said,
but then the hunger returns,
the lies begin and she is left
somewhere in the middle,
holding on to broken promises
and shattered dreams
as I try to pick up all the pieces and
put them back together again
before it is too late;
there are many things
I want to say to you baby
but I know I probably never will,
because words are a
dime a dozen,
and with me
they aren’t worth the paper
they are written on.
_________________________________________________
than you
I have written many things in my life,
thought many thoughts,
fantasized many fantasies,
dreamed many dreams,
but none of them
are more important
than you;
I have written of imaginary lovers
and foolish ideas
all of which seemed so important
but were nothing,
nothing at all,
compared to the love
that we share,
you are the reality
which has kept me holding on
for more years
than I can remember,
yours is the touch
I long to feel,
the voice
I long to hear
at the end of the day,
when nothing seems real,
when nothing is true,
as all the thoughts and ideas
go drifting away
like smoke
from a burning campfire,
you are the part of me
I can never let go
no matter how hard
this need to destroy
everything that I touch
has tried;
there is no one
I would rather be with
than you.
.
.

Sunday, November 26, 2017

not a clue



















I have been at the top,
I have been on the bottom,
I have been every place
in between;
so don’t judge or condemn,
don’t assume you know
who I am;
you haven’t got a clue;
forever two steps ahead,
continually one step behind,
the days come,
the days go,
while the nighttime hides
within gathering midnight
shadows
and still you remain
on my mind;
you haven’t got a clue;
I have tasted the suffering
of tomorrow,
I have known the misery of
one more day,
I have been where you can
never be,
I have seen the gathering dawn
as it silently waits for
the privileged few,
I have heard the sound of nothing
as it calls out for more;
you haven’t got a clue.
.

.

today will have to wait


















I started to get dressed,
instead, all I could do,
was lay back down;
today will have to wait;
on television
angry crowds protest,
screaming words of hate
at little children
staring out of a bus window,
wondering what they have
done wrong
to be the objects of
such maniacal wrath,
when the truth is
they have done nothing
except be born
in a world where might
makes right
and wealth demands privilege;
the mob stands firm
in their position of moral
and political correction,
their comments,
their words,
their agendas,
their motives,
their ulterior objectives,
their over the top protests,
silently gives them away;
in it all
there is fear,
in it all is self-preservation,
in it all 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;
today will have to wait.
.

.

suburbia
















out in the fields
the slaughterhouse seems
so far away,
dreams still live,
the future remains open and free,
tomorrow certain and secure;
the cattle truck is on its way;
the circle is closing
and you wonder
is this the best there is,
or more importantly;
is this all there is?
as if it ever mattered
one way or the other,
yet still you wonder,
and you forget,
and you remember,
over and over again;
everything changes,
everything remains the same;
the days become harder,
movement nonexistent,
just a little farther,
only a little longer,
holding on with what
little there is,
living for letting go,
waiting for the last breath,
pretending it matters,
wishing it didn’t;
knowing it never will;
in central suburbia
the waves wash quietly
upon forgotten shores,
nothing is ever what it seems,
no one is ever who they say,
looking down from sacred ground,
privileged and blessed,
safe and secure,
flags flying high,
apple pies cooling
on kitchen counters;
‘those’ people are ruining the country,
‘those’ people don’t belong here;
all I ever wanted was You.
.

.

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

your touch














I see your fire,
I ask you please,
you hear my screams,
you touch my disease;
denial,
just not good enough,
resistance,
just a little to rough;
but still
there is tomorrow,
sitting alone and forsaken
just a heartbeat away;
your touch
warms my soul
even
from such a distance,
the sound of your magical voice
ringing inside
my tired head,
soothing,
taking me to a land
no other has ever
known.
.

.

Only You







































it begins like a
Stephen King novel,
a little here,
a little there,
snowballing,
steamrolling,
gaining momentum,
over in the blink
of an eye;
life imitating art?
right where I belong,
pretending it doesn’t matter,
just one more,
down the hallway
and out the door;
you come in a dream,
unexplained,
unexpected;
uninvited;
I run,
I hide,
but it does
no good;
resistance is futile;
this madness floats
like a feather,
without limits,
without direction,
following unknown tracks,
searching for lost dreams,
hiding inside forgotten
cracks;
the way back is closed,
there is only the road ahead,
there is only You.
.

.

how many?




















how many?
they knew the truth,
they put up the fight,
they never stood a chance;
how many?
so sad,
so very sad indeed,
just pawns,
unintended consequences,
part of the grand illusion,
simple stooges
in the great give-away;
how many?
your touch,
intoxicating,
smooth as silk,
liquid glass,
irresistible,
they could not resist;
how many?
.

.

This Love


















I see her in every face,
every smile,
every laugh,
every touch,
every word,
every line,
every song,
every woman;
like a dog in heat,
it is more than
I can resist;
into my dreams
she comes,
warm and soft,
sensuous and sweet,
washing over me
like cool liquid rain,
wave after delicious wave,
saturating me with desire,
marking me with her scent,
filling me with her fullness;
making me alive
once more;
melting into her
inner sanctuary,
I smell her fragrance,
I taste her softness,
I feel her passion,
drowning in a love
that is no love,
trapped within the walls
of a house that is
no house.
.

.

Resist


























“When an evil spirit comes out of a man, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says, ‘I will return to the house I left.’ When it arrives, it finds the house swept clean and put in order. Then it goes and takes seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that man is worse than the first.”   Luke 11:24-26
Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.   James 4:7
But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.   John 1:12-13
once again,
You sweep my house clean,
once again,
the enemy waits outside,
poised to bring destruction
worse than before;
“Do not fear, resist.” You quietly whisper;
and I know
You will always be there,
ready to protect,
ready to defend,
teaching me Your truth while
giving just enough room to grow,
like a child learning to walk,
picking me up when
I stumble and fall,
holding my hand,
wiping away the tears,
never leaving me alone;
Father,
Creator of the universe,
praise Your holy name!
thank you for the gift
of Your wondrous Spirit,
the Comforter who guides
into all truth,
teach me to shine
like a thousand suns;
teach me to be a Son
of the Living God.
.

.

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.
.

.

A Good Lover


























she is a good lover,
she knows
things
all good lovers
know,
she feels
things
all good lovers
feel,
she has a
vulnerability
inside her
hardened armor
making her
irresistibly
resistant
yet
passionately
passionate,
she is like
a well-worn coat,
comfortable,
warm,
giving her love
cautiously,
freely,
completely;
she is a good lover.
.

.

Monday, November 20, 2017

The New Massahs
















America has always been about color;
not black,
not white,
not brown,
not yellow;
slavery was never about race or skin color,
slavery was about economics, pure and simple,
using black men just made it feasible,
gave it a sort of justified nobility;
did skin color matter to the Romans
when they enslaved conquered nations?
did it matter to African chiefs and sultans
who enslaved their own people,
then sold them to white slave traders?
do you really think plantation owners cared about the skin color
of their cheap, disposable work force?
don’t you think they would have used poor, uneducated whites
and saved all those costs of traveling half way around the world
if they could have gotten away with it?
but the truth is they couldn’t, so they justified it with black men
brought from the dark continent of Africa;
after all, they weren’t real men
were they?
it was never about race or skin color,
it was always about something much deeper,
it was about those who have
taking from those who have not;
fear of homelessness and starvation
has replaced bullwhips and chains,
fear of losing what little one has,
along with crumbs from the ‘massahs’ table
has provided the new slaves of choice;
the new ‘massahs’ come in all colors
but they all have one color in common,
green is the color of power and domination,
green is the true color of the new ‘massahs’;
but then it was all along
wasn’t it?
.

.

Forever Gone



















last night I was ready to die;
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,
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
forever gone;
the pain grows deeper,
the suffering more intense,
nighttime darkness closes in,
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,
the evil dying or dead,
You have restored all that was lost,
once more You pull me from this
prison of self-absorption;
the misery
forever gone.
.

.

Size Doesn't Matter
















in the morning
it all seems so different,
thoughts and ideas
from the night before
fade away as if
they never existed at all,
all that is left
is the realization
that it will never be the way
it was supposed to be,
that there is more
which will never be found,
but in the final analysis
even that means very little;
put some AC/DC on the headphones
to put it all back in perspective;
watched a show
about Bob Marley and the Rastafarians,
thought about my life and all the time wasted,
thought about how much time
might possibly be left,
came to the conclusion
that it really wasn’t an issue
because it was never a question
of quantity,
it was always a matter of quality,
just like the myth
guys have been telling themselves
for centuries;
size doesn’t matter,
(yeah sure);
turned up the AC/DC,
size may not matter
but volume
sure the hell does.
.

.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Final Analysis





















I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.   Ecclesiastes 1:14
in the final analysis,
you don’t find the words,
they find you,
they come gliding in
like geese landing on a remote
mountain lake,
touching down with a splash at
3 in the morning,
you either take the shot or
lose them forever,
by morning they will be gone;
this ocean stretches endlessly
before me,
a sea of words,
mountains of darkness,
places visited,
journeys taken,
hidden thoughts,
the magnitude, the enormity,
none of it matters now,
inside there’s more,
but the will and desire are gone;
a new kind of sadness
overcomes my soul,
final, complete,
without return,
I have gone so far,
yet I have gone nowhere;
all the atrocity,
all the inequity,
all the inequality,
all the injustice,
swept under the carpet,
made to go away,
pretending it never happened;
you reap what you sow;
unbroken,
uninspired,
unrepentant,
destined to repeat the lies,
your hour is here,
your time has come;
this flesh is born,
this flesh dies,
crumbling back into the dust
from whence it came,
all your greatness,
all your accomplishments,
all your desires,
all your good works,
just a fading footnote,
eventually forgotten,
in the end nothing but
vanity and vexation;
the mountains shine like jewels
in the morning sun,
they too fade away,
without You there is nothing.
.

.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

Saturday Morning Cartoons



I remember
Saturday morning cartoons,
unreturned kisses,
unfulfilled love,
imaginary dances danced
under imaginary moons,
lovers who never knew,
futures planned
without a chance,
messages sent
but never received,
even now
I remember
cold city streets,
dark and empty,
calling out,
I go there sometimes
on nighttime journeys,
traveling among the living
and the dead,
always waiting,
never knowing,
forever seeing,
I hear their anger,
I touch their fear,
I see their rage,
like trapped animals
with no escape,
slashing out
with the only power they possess,
the only pleasure
they know,
the cold steel blade
sliding in to the bone,
the warm sweet liquid
flowing out
onto the concrete world.
.

.

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,
imprisoning all that live within their deadly gates,
and to you do I say;
that it is better to lie here with you among these shadows
than to walk among the light with any other,
better to have tasted your love even for a moment
than a lifetime without it.
.

.

Stolen Ground


















I have tasted heights so high,
I have swam depths so deep,
touching things along the way
which were never mine to keep,
traveling beyond all there
was to know,
yet still there is more,
so much more to go;
confusion and sorrow color
these early morning skies,
answers lie hidden
among alternatives and
cascading lies,
places once called home
crumble into the far-off fading light,
faces once called friends
disappear into the approaching black
of this forever growing night;
take my hand,
lead me from this land,
hear my voice,
help me make a stand;
darkness grows above,
storms rise from below,
over-fed pretenders
prepare for the final show,
in this never ending battle
which can never be won,
raging just beyond
all that can be overcome;
into the nighttime void a
whisper does sound,
shadows of tomorrow looming large
across this stolen ground,
mistakes of yesterday forever lost,
innocent blood shed,
freedom at such a staggering cost;
take my hand,
lead me from this land,
hear my voice,

help me make a stand.
.
.

The Face of True Evil


















true evil has no face,
it shifts and moves,
swaying back and forth
like grains of desert sand
in a gently blowing wind,
quietly infiltrating its way
into minds and souls
in high and mighty places,
enticing,
alluring;
irresistible;
the ultimate chameleon,
making changes so subtle
they are barely perceptible,
deception in the name of innocence,
taking shape without worry or care,
then disappearing like magic
into the thin night air;
true evil has no face,
it goes by many names;
eminent domain,
manifest destiny,
true religion,
national pride,
the final solution,
slavery,
racial and moral superiority,
genocide;
to name a few;
when it has come and gone,
none but a few even realize
it has passed their way
at all.
.

.

Monday, November 13, 2017

Sifted



























“Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”   Luke 22:31-32
another feeling,
another emotion,
another disappointment,
another lie;
I no longer know
who or what I am,
I no longer see
where I belong
or where I need to be;
the darkness grows,
swallowing everything
in its path;
I can deny myself,
but I cannot deny You,
I can run from everything
and everyone
but I cannot run from You;
everything I know
falls away,
everything I am
becomes less,
everywhere I go
is nowhere;
there is nothing
without You;
like a light shining
in the night,
You lead me back,
guiding my steps,
restoring the hope,
calming the storm,
providing the only
reassurance I will
ever need;
there is nothing
without You.
.

.

Close

















I awake at 3 in
the morning,
dreams still lingering,
voices softly whispering;
I feel the disappointment,
I feel the sadness,
I feel the emptiness,
I feel the sorrow,
I always wanted to be someone
who made you proud;
but I never was;
now I run backhoes
and drive tractors,
pretending to be
something I am not,
accepting the pain,
ignoring the truth,
doing ‘manly’ things,
but still it’s not enough,
it will never be enough as
the voice inside screams:
“more,”
“more;”
eventually I will fail,
eventually I will quit,
eventually I will give up;
I always do,
I always have;
freedom is about
being free;
free from desires,
free from possessions,
free from fear;
freedom is about
being good enough
to walk away;
pretending it doesn’t matter,
doing without by choice;
not necessity;
freedom is about
being free from
everyone and
everything;
free from yourself;
the energy fades,
slipping away like air,
forever gone,
never to return,
the time is close now,
the day no longer rules,
things are different in
the darkness of this night,
light disappears,
feelings fade,
words have no place,
secrets of the heart
spill out;
the time is close.
.

.

Slaves



















In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through Him all things were made; without Him nothing was made that has been made. In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.   John 1:1-5
products of our own choices,
masters of impossibilities and
empty desires,
creatures of cold-hearted witness;
slaves to life,
slaves to death,
slaves to everything,
slaves to nothing;
such is our destiny,
such is our fate;
followers of a far distant night,
lost travelers upon forgotten
highways,
eventually everything
loses its value,
everything fades,
everything fails,
everything crumbles back
into the dust from
where it came;
I want to be free,
I want to breathe
once again;
life is as temporary as
the moment,
as fragile as the
morning dew,
when it has all passed;
there will always be
You.
.

.

Patriotism

















I am the LORD, and there is none else, there is no God beside me: I girded thee, though thou hast not known me: That they may know from the rising of the sun, and from the west, that there is none beside me. I am the LORD, and there is none else. I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the LORD do all these things. Isaiah   45:5-7
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, highminded, 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
Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.   Proverbs 3:5
once again the storm begins to build,
the raging winds start to blow,
through the chaos and darkness
You stand like a shining
light upon a hill,
a mighty rock which can never
be moved,
a haven in which to take shelter;
a small, still voice within
the howling madness;
trapped within their fear,
running from their mortality,
they see
but they are blind,
they hear
but they are deaf,
You are so much more than
psychology or philosophical babble,
so far beyond political agendas or
simple human persuasion;
denying the sovereignty,
demeaning the righteousness,
twisting the truth;
failing to grasp the power.
.

.

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 its strong argument
for justification,
survival separates the living
from the dead;
words once spoken
can never be returned.
.

.

Weakness




















“Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”   Mark 14:38
new beginnings,
past swept clean,
nowhere left to run,
nothing left to give,
moments of temptation,
unkind words,
unrehearsed thoughts,
traveling into the darkness
of this world surrounding
my every side,
releasing the filth
lurking within,
once again I fail,
once again I fall short,
once again the spirit is willing
but the flesh remains weak;
You have taken me places
never before seen,
given me opportunities
and second chances
not deserved,
standing by my side
through every raging storm,
raising me up
after every fatal fall;
disciplining me
as a beloved son;
thank you Father
for Your unlimited
mercy and grace,
thank you for loving me
more than I could
ever love myself,
I cannot survive
without You;
my life is nothing
without You.
.

.

Something New



















In the morning You are there, like a breath of sweet springtime air, renewing my mind, refreshing my soul, providing comfort and hope; bring me home to You.
some days the confusion runs so deep,
I no longer know which end is up
or which end is down,
what is true and what is false,
who I am and who I am not,
inside I am like a sad, pathetic,
little child,
wandering lost and alone,
afraid of everyone and
everything,
trying to find my way,
searching for the road home,
I only know
if I can just hold on to You,
everything will be alright;
the day begins anew,
bright and fresh,
the darkness fades
as the morning light
rises on the horizon,
the hope grows within,
if I can just hold on to You,
everything will be alright;
today is the beginning
of something new;
this body grows weary,
weak and frail,
failing minute by minute,
but I am not afraid,
as I become less
You become more,
standing by my side,
providing strength,
bringing comfort,
if I can just hold on to You,
everything will be alright;
today is the beginning
of something new.
.

.

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