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 do sing Your praise,

all in heaven and on 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

of no-man’s land,

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

in-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 this

long and lonesome road,

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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For The First Time

I read their poems,

I feel their rage,

I see their sadness,

I understand their frustration,

I know their darkness,

I have been on that side

of the fence;

I have been where they are.

Like a giant vacuum,

it sucks you into

the deep murky mire,

echoes from below

cry out within,

as visions of madmen

standing on the platform,

waiting for a train

that never comes,

flash before your burned out

cynical eyes;

I have been to their edge.

This body fades,

for the first time

words come to life,

for the first time

the possibilities

far outweigh the

realities;

for the first time

I am clean.

The pain grows,

as you hold it inside,

like a deformed child,

locked away,

out of sight,

out of mind;

no one listens,

no one sees,

no one understands;

but You.

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Suburbia

Out in the fields

the slaughterhouse seems

so far away,

dreams still live,

the future open and free,

tomorrow certain and secure;

little do they know;

the cattle truck is on its way.

The circle is closing,

and you wonder

if this is the best there is,

or more importantly,

if this is 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;

and all I ever wanted was you.

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Pushbuttons

Sports, sex and food,

those are about

the only things in life

that have ever really

interested me,

and I've only been good

at two of those,

well okay,

I used to be good at two,

now,

I only do one well;

technology?

bores the shit out of me,

and on top of that

I don’t really understand it,

yet somehow

here I am,

a highly trained technician,

in a highly technical field,

pushing buttons,

watching red and green lights

go on and off,

thinking about the leftover steak

in the refrigerator,

and the secretary with the nice ass,

or how my daughter

can improve her basketball game,

sometimes I imagine life

living in a stone cottage,

overlooking the ocean

on the western coast of Ireland,

writing whatever comes to mind

all day long,

then walking into the village at night

to drink a few pints,

tell a few lies,

then stumbling home

to crawl in bed

with a good woman,

big and soft,

who moves with passion,

moaning out of control,

and keeps the house clean;

excuse me,

I gotta push a button.

.

.

soon enough

love,

death,

hate,

war;

soon enough,

soon enough;

shadows fall upon

hidden fields,

covering invisible wounds,

followed by morning

inconsistencies,

somewhere lies

middle ground,

fresh and innocent,

untested and true,

struggling among

the forgotten debris,

running from unknown

memories,

lost within all

the other dirty details;

soon enough,

soon enough;

you think you know,

but you do not,

you never can,

you never will,

there is so much more,

so much beyond

all that you can see,

so much more

than you can ever know,

quiet moments,

late night visits,

fallen kingdoms,

far away dreams;

soon enough,

soon enough.

Kathleen

The laughter rings in my ears,

the silence covers the night,

like a worn out lover

inviting everything into its domain,

like flies

in the spider’s web,

echoes of the past

bang into the walls of my mind;

who am I?

how did I get here?

I remember a road

on a dark starless night,

I remember your laughter,

I remember your scream,

I recall everything;

which means nothing.

Ah Kathleen,

your hair was like silk,

you smelled of springtime flowers,

we were young,

we were lovers,

we were soul mates

traveling the road to Dublin,

then you were gone,

I searched for you in the meadow,

but you were not there,

I screamed out your name,

but received no reply;

oh my Kathleen,

where have you gone?

Time has no hold on our love,

our love was greater than time,

it was greater than life,

our love was endless,

timeless,

even death cannot keep me

from you,

remember the moon,

we watched it rise,

you saw the fairies

and called them out by name,

we danced till the new day sun

came out;

oh my Kathleen,

where have you gone?

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