Friday, April 17, 2015

Possibilities


























there is a silence here,
it grows like a whisper,
a quiet, controlled pause,
a small, knowing glance,
a foreign substance,
speaking a language
all its own;
we have become a nation of whores,
selling our children to the highest bidder,
devouring their inheritance
for a pittance,
accepting the consequences,
with no thought for tomorrow,
trapped within the madness
of the method,
replacing character with content;
ends justifying the means;
false prophets, in love with
the sound of their own voices,
forever searching, but never seeing,
forever finding, but never understanding,
unaware, unsuspecting;
sometimes knowing the answers,
is not nearly as important
as imagining the possibilities;
the light of a new dawn
begins to break,
I am leaving this dark place,
going to a home unknown,
what tomorrow brings
does not matter;
for You will be there
to make it right,
You will be there to wipe away
every tear.
.

.

Satisfying Day
















we walked the beach today,
she made a remark about all the trash
laying around,
I told her it was from the weekend crowd;
“it’s our human footprint” I reply,
“our legacy, everywhere humans go,
their trash is sure to follow;”
“you’re always so dark and negative” she says,
and in my mind I think ‘she’s right of course;’
I wish it were not so;
we talked about current events and
certain actors behaving badly,
“I’m not sure if he’s delusional or a genius,” I say,
“maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing;”
they say bad pr is better than no pr at all;
we discussed my dream from the night before,
(actually I did, she could have cared less,)
“What do you think it means?” I ask,
“I don’t know” she says, ”I never know what
your dreams mean, what do you think it means?”
“I don’t know” I reply;
and that was the end of that;
walking back, I fight the voice whispering
inside my head to go to a bar
and get wasted, along with not giving in
to the inner urge, telling me to stare
at the very attractive young lady
laying on a towel next to her boyfriend,
with a very skimpy string bikini on;
all-in-all, between trash, dreams, and small
personal victories over basic human
weakness and flaws;
it was a very satisfying day.
.

.

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.
.
.


Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Mumia


























sometimes things are exactly as they appear,
despite how badly, so many want to
believe otherwise,
so they forget, or choose not to see,
that the color of a man’s skin,
doesn’t make him innocent,
anymore than it makes him guilty;
those with ulterior motives
and hidden agendas,
turn him into a martyr for their cause,
because they know people don’t
want to hear the truth,
when it comes to martyrs and causes,
they only want to hear that
which is righteous and perfect,
so they spin a fact or two here,
twist a detail there,
to make the whole thing
much bigger,
than a young cop’s life;
now they compare this
cold-blooded murderer,
this prophetic imposter,
to one of the greatest lights
the world has ever known,
one whose feet, Mumia is not
even worthy to kiss,
one whose entire life, was dedicated
to fighting the darkness and evil
that Mumia represents;
Dr King deserves better than this.
.

.

Sunday, April 12, 2015

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 and 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.
.

.

Friday, April 3, 2015

Yeshua


















what words have I,
that pay honor to 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.
.

.

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, which lies
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.
.

.

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