Hideout

I dream of dreams

in this hideout by the sea,

somewhere just between the

living and the dead,

cool, sweet dreams

where the final breath

waits no more;

time runs down,

final destinations no closer

than they were the day before,

answers slip away,

questions no longer matter,

all the thoughts,

all the memories,

undecided,

undetermined;

meaningless;

I can go to this dark place

but I would prefer not,

I have tasted privilege and wealth,

stood on its shore,

walked its path,

seen its hypocrisy,

swallowed its inequity;

choked on its bitterness;

time to go.

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Workshop

I thought about writing again

but then I got a stomachache

so I thought to hell with it;

besides;

what would it prove?

I really don’t care

to by psycho analyzed

by some middle aged, mildly attractive

poet wannabe named Diane,

searching for meaning

in a poem about women at the DMV,

scrutinizing every line to find

political and technical correctness;

I would buy her a drink however,

if I thought there wouldn’t be a test

afterwards;

it is rather amusing though to find out

that there really are people out there

attempting to learn how to write this bullshit,

it makes me wonder if it’s poetry

they’re trying to master

or life;

because I never saw any difference

between the two.

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Christmas Morning

ah glorious morning,

the world holds its breath

in silent anticipation;

soon enough the darkness will return,

the prince of this world guards his kingdom

with insane jealousy,

blinding the truth with words like

god and country,

waving his flags,

creating his heroes,

confusing us with the illusion,

justifying hatred with

patriotic fervor,

making that which is simple

so very complicated,

that which is nothing

so very important,

creating racial and ethnic hatred,

separating and dividing,

but for one shining moment

we see with our hearts

not our minds;

seeing the possibilities

not the realities,

feeling the peace;

thank you blessed King

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my Lord

thank You

for loving me,

for forgiving me,

for dying for me,

for paying my debt,

for being perfect,

for being the truth,

for being the light,

for showing me the way;

thank You for these

and so many things

freely given,

which could never be repaid

even if I tried;

fill me with Your spirit,

fill me with Your love,

fill me with Your grace,

fill me with Your mercy,

that others might see Your shining glory,

that they might reach out

for this priceless gift,

offered to all who would receive it;

praise Your name,

for you above all

are worthy.

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Worthy

speak and I shall listen,

lead and I shall follow,

for You are my God

and I am Your servant,

for this purpose was I born,

for this reason do I live;

above You

there is no other,

You alone are worthy,

You alone deserve all praise,

within You do all things lie,

within You are all things possible;

You fill us with Your spirit,

leading us to truth and knowledge,

filling us with the blessed peace,

a gift so precious it surpasses

all understanding,

given freely to all who accept

though none deserve;

oh my Lord,

my spirit cries out for You,

speaking the love and adoration

that is Yours and Yours alone,

let the glory of Your mystery consume me

like a great and wonderful fire;

teach me,

guide me,

admonish me,

cleanse me,

purify me,

sanctify me;

that through faith alone

I might be found worthy

of one such as You.

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Hope?

“Life is a tale told by an idiot – full of sound and fury, signifying nothing” – William Shakespeare.

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.   Ecclesiastes 1:9

“See that I am He! There is no god besides me. I put to death and I bring to life, I have wounded and I will heal, and no one can deliver out of my hand.   Deuteronomy 32:39

we live,

we die,

we laugh,

we cry;

there is nothing new under the sun;

all the accomplishments of man,

all the clever, flowing words,

meaningless dust,

vanities and vexations,

twisting and blowing,

scattering on the shifting wind,

dark mists of evaporating vapor,

clanging gongs of raucous sound,

deep reservoirs of hopeless hope,

obstinate children full of excess

and self-glorification,

pompous celebrations of mediocrity

and drivel,

early morning shadows,

disappearing with the

noon day sun,

here today,

gone tomorrow,

they are nothing,

nothing at all,

not one can bring

life from death,

not one can escape

the grave;

without You there is no meaning,

without You there is no truth,

without You there is no light;

without You there is no life.

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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.

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