Monday, June 13, 2016

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;
nothing has changed,
nothing is new,
just a different name,
just another place,
what sad, pathetic fools
we are;
blinded by our own self-worth,
slaves to our preconceived ideas,
prisoners of our dying flesh,
controlled by our irrational fears,
forever repeating history,
forever trusting in our imperfect
and limited comprehension;
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.
.

.

Saturday, June 11, 2016

What Love Really Is



















some get it,
most don’t,
they think they do,
but they don’t,
their comments and words
give them away,
but it really is ok,
some of the time
I don’t get it either,
I just put on a knowing look,
and pretend with all the rest,
not knowing is bad enough,
admitting that you don’t know
even worse;
it does get hard though,
listening to all the know-it-alls
and self-proclaimed experts,
rambling on and on about
this and that,
as you patiently listen, nod
and smile,
all the while wondering
what you will eat for dinner
when you get home,
or why the One who
does know all,
puts up with all the
vanity and bullshit;
why He doesn’t just
speak and make it all
go away;
it’s realizations like this,
when you begin to understand,
what love really is.
.

.

Ice Cream and Patti Smith




















I used to run marathons and hike
12 miles up into the mountains;
now I just want a bowl of ice cream;
life has very little to offer
anymore.
I bought what I thought
was a Patti Smith CD today,
it was used and priced at only $4.99,
it was only when I got home
that I realized it was Patty Smyth,
some 1980’s pop star,
not the poet;
I threw it into the trash;
Patti Smith (the poet),
has always fascinated me,
I think she’s one of the
most beautiful women
on the planet,
strong yet vulnerable,
a pioneer of the unknown,
putting it all on the line,
one of a handful,
brave enough
to venture into the shit,
so decent people like us
don’t have to;
an amazing individual;
later I got in my truck
and drove to the store;
time for that bowl
of ice cream.
.

.

Imperfection
















When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!” For he and all his companions were astonished at the catch of fish they had taken, and so were James and John, the sons of Zebedee, Simon’s partners. Then Jesus said to Simon, “Don’t be afraid; from now on you will catch men.” So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him. Luke 5:8-11
Ignoring what they said, Jesus told the synagogue ruler, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.” Mark 5:36
my soul has tasted madness,
my soul lies dying in the dust,
choking on the excess,
drowning in the lust,
caught up in the illusion,
dried up,
empty,
no where left to turn,
no where left to run,
guilty as charged;
once again You
raise me from the depths,
once again You
wrap me in Your love,
Your righteousness and glory
more than my filth ridden flesh
can bear,
Your perfection
overwhelming the imperfection
of all that I am;
Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!
once again You quietly whisper;
Don’t be afraid; just believe.
my God,
my King,
my Everything.
.

.

now it begins
















When he opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour.   Revelations 8:1
night does approach,
dreams do fade,
silence awaits,
time no more;
now it begins;
love fades,
hypocrisy rises,
iniquity abounds,
self-proclaimed children of light,
fingers of judgment,
objects of wrath,
calm,
cool,
arrogant;
no mourning,
no shame,
no remorse,
sitting as a queen;
in one day her plagues
will overtake her.
.

.

dreams


























who is right and
who is wrong?
I am like a beached whale;
struggling,
turning,
pulsing,
heaving,
fighting,
rolling,
rising,
falling;
and who is right,
and who is wrong?
the silence remains,
undisguised,
unspoken,
forgotten,
hiding behind
darkened windows,
shadows within the
night,
silky smooth,
hot and bothered,
passionately pure,
blends of this,
shades of that,
pieces of the
unfinished puzzle,
none of it real,
none of it genuine,
none of it true;
who is right and
who is wrong?
within these walls
are many tales,
much laughter,
rivers of sorrow,
oceans of tears,
pools of sadness,
victims drowning
within their own blood;
we are all right,
we are all wrong;
winners and losers,
fighters and failures,
lovers and haters,
innocent and guilty,
doomed and redeemed;
together;
this is all there is,
this is all we have;
I cannot dream
what I do not know,
I cannot know
what I do not dream.
.
.

grieve


























I would do it;
but the finality of it all
stands in the way;
the uncertainty;
the hesitation;
sometimes I think,
this is the way it should be,
all the time;
beyond feeling,
beyond caring,
beyond knowing,
beyond rewrites and
perfection,
beyond judgment,
beyond misery,
beyond charades,
beyond lies,
beyond self-delusion;
beyond love and fantasy,
beyond wondering and doubt;
beyond self;
every denial demands
atonement,
every question requires
an answer,
for every gift
there is a price,
for everything worth having
there is a cost;
I wish it were not so,
I wish there was another way;
madness rules,
darkness lights the way,
You are all that is left
at the end of the day,
there are things
bigger than ourselves,
beyond thinking or reason,
there are things that
matter most,
there are things that define
who we are,
the miles go by,
the years pass,
the end is near;
soon enough,
soon enough;
this poverty has
another face,
another kind of soul,
quiet and alone,
frightened and confused,
suicide can be so blind,
nothing more than
a whisper,
spitting and sputtering,
laughing and pretending;
you cannot love anyone,
until you have learned
to grieve for everyone.
.

.

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