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 what 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.
.
.

Floodwaters

“And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?   Luke 18:7-8

The world is dying,

I am dying,

death has become an only friend,

the final sanctuary,

each day begins anew,

each day ends,

the breeze continues to blow,

the rivers continue to flow,

the morning sun arrives

right on time;

for every season there is a purpose,

for every question there is an answer.

I see the ugliness lying

just below the surface,

the self-serving hypocrisy,

the incomplete falsehoods,

the insincere agendas,

they do not fool me;

not even for a moment;

the time begins at last,

the hour is at hand,

their great and wondrous deeds

are no more,

their monuments of glory

crumble before the wind,

the bitter taste of their demise

lies frozen upon a sea

of silent tongues;

this then is the beginning,

this then is the end;

still they do not listen,

even now their eyes remain blind,

giving in marriage and celebrating

right up to the very end;

surely there is no hope

for ones such as these.

The children of men hold their breath,

a final sigh before the meltdown,

a silent pause within the maelstrom,

hearts fail from fear,

meeting in secret places,

waiting for what is to come;

like a thief in the night

it sweeps them away;

trees smolder and smoke,

bursting into flames as

tires begin to steam,

their rubber melting

to the highway surface;

no where to run,

no where to hide;

like abandoned wells

their water runs dry,

they sit withering in the sun,

wandering through the wilderness,

lost and alone;

the day is here,

the time is now;

Your mercy endures

to the end,

but who shall hear the message?

who shall accept the grace?

when the Son of Man returns

will he find faith?

.

.

All There Is

Standing beneath this night time sky,

gazing up at the glory of Your

wondrous mystery,

I will not fear,

facing the uncertainty,

fighting the doubt,

Your Spirit

renews my strength

once again,

raising me up

from the depths

of this darkness,

restoring all that

has been lost;

You are my shield,

You are my sanctuary,

my Great Protector,

You are truth,

You are light;

You are all there is.

.

.

waiting

with a song it begins,

this incredible sadness,

this bittersweet goodbye,

no matter how far you run,

it always comes back to here;

for everything there is a cost,

for everything there is a loss;

trapped within this wreckage,

hidden among the fading mist,

a price to be paid,

an unanswered question,

an unfulfilled answer;

a beacon for the terminally lost;

this morning,

for the first time in

a long time,

I woke up afraid;

there is an evil lurking here,

floating just below the surface,

an unspoken shadow,

waiting to envelope everything

in its path,

.

.

Choices

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.                Romans 12:21

“Now fear the Lord and serve him with all faithfulness. Throw away the gods your forefathers worshipped beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord.  But if serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your forefathers served beyond the River, or the gods of the Ammorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”                                                                                    Joshua 24:14-15

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”                                           Matthew 7:13-14

The hot sun beats down,

the sweat slowly runs,

the anger and hatred grow,

the bitterness spreads,

life is finite,

all things come to an end,

we have no control

over the places or times,

the circumstances and situations,

it is there with every beat of our heart,

it speaks with every breath we take,

it is all that we are,

it is part of the life we live;

participation is not optional;

in the end we choose

the reaction not the situation,

we choose the darkness

or the light;

we choose to control

or be controlled;

the truth or the lie;

the narrow road that leads to life;

or the broad road that leads to death;

choose wisely.

.

.

New Years Day

New Years day

2011,

begins with rain,

cold, hard sheets;

a sign of things to come?

Eye for an eye,

tooth for tooth,

choices made,

consequences paid;

it is a terrible thing

to accept defeat,

it’s like never having existed

at all.

This is what I do,

there is nothing else,

do not look for more,

do not ask questions

for which answers lie hidden,

none will come;

we reap what we sow.

These words come,

these words go,

this day begins,

this day ends,

there are places unknown,

there are shadows unseen;

all that remains

is the light in-between.

It rises like a distant storm;

this new place,

this other reality,

this far off land where

night 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 brings fresh sorrow

with nothing more left;

I wish it were not so.

this life is no life,

it changes and rearranges

without completion,

without form,

creations of a creator,

children of light

trapped within the darkness,

temporary,

transient and conciliatory,

blinded to the truth,

hidden before our eyes,

deceiving and being deceived,

wounding and being wounded,

hurting and being hurt,

feeding off the leftovers,

running for the scraps,

hiding within the cracks;

this great illusion

we choose to believe.

.

.

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.

.

.