What if I
Was one of the unlucky ones
Who gained the whole world and lost their soul?
What would happen,
Who would I become
If I hardened myself to what brings me to tears?
Would I die happy rich
Or rather die happy poor?
With the world so hurt and dying
How could I begin to care?
Or else I’ll end up a mess
And never move anywhere.
Why the frosted nights don’t seem so cold
When I’m warm inside my home.
I’ll just pretend I didn’t see
The man on the street corner
Begging mercy or money from me.
If I can’t bear to help everyone
How can I choose the lucky ones?
When they aren’t grateful,
Who in this world ever is?
We care and call it caring
When we send our little checks.
How can this be caring
If we never strain our necks to see
Outside of our own windows
Outside our comfort zone?
When will we embrace the needy
Will then we never fail?
30 November 2007
The Unpainted Picture
All the while I was painting you
I was painting you
I couldn’t see that you
Were never painting me.
Amid these false lies and fireflies
I whisper that nothing broken here
Can ever be fixed.
Nothing torn through here
Will ever be repaired.
Oh, sweet repair to come from
Not my own hands, but hearts above.
The song I sang was wrong
For you, not who it should
For them, not for Him.
But you didn’t sing me again.
You sang another
You sang another lie, lie with them.
Beset the blossoms in my hair,
Of my own doing, not your speech.
Not His hands, not your eyes.
To me they stray, from me
They hate.
Oh sing the song again.
Broken heart Rejoicer,
Repair after tornadoes,
Bless after hurricanes,
Sleep after insomnia,
Rest in my hands.
I was painting you
I couldn’t see that you
Were never painting me.
Amid these false lies and fireflies
I whisper that nothing broken here
Can ever be fixed.
Nothing torn through here
Will ever be repaired.
Oh, sweet repair to come from
Not my own hands, but hearts above.
The song I sang was wrong
For you, not who it should
For them, not for Him.
But you didn’t sing me again.
You sang another
You sang another lie, lie with them.
Beset the blossoms in my hair,
Of my own doing, not your speech.
Not His hands, not your eyes.
To me they stray, from me
They hate.
Oh sing the song again.
Broken heart Rejoicer,
Repair after tornadoes,
Bless after hurricanes,
Sleep after insomnia,
Rest in my hands.
Some Things Never Change
Some things never change
Like how three years later
We all look the same
And we’re all just surviving
And getting along
A long long way from where I was.
I’ve ended up just to be
Here again this blue room
All within, without, with much undoing
We’re all here again, still the same.
Deaths and births, still the earth turns.
Turns wide on its axis
Hill over hill, re-creating, re-making
Re-marking, re-birthing.
Oh these hills
I grew up in.
Oh these hills
I now loathe.
Oyster beds beneath my feet,
Wretched stinking smells from the beach.
Oh these hills disappear.
Find grace and truth in a new place,
A new world.
Like how three years later
We all look the same
And we’re all just surviving
And getting along
A long long way from where I was.
I’ve ended up just to be
Here again this blue room
All within, without, with much undoing
We’re all here again, still the same.
Deaths and births, still the earth turns.
Turns wide on its axis
Hill over hill, re-creating, re-making
Re-marking, re-birthing.
Oh these hills
I grew up in.
Oh these hills
I now loathe.
Oyster beds beneath my feet,
Wretched stinking smells from the beach.
Oh these hills disappear.
Find grace and truth in a new place,
A new world.
Human
Wash the darkness from their skin
They’re not human yet
So poor like dirt from the earth
To be a little more than a charity case.
Is the earth alive?
All the people, all over the world?
If yes, Julia, they are, then why
Why do we treat such pigs as human
And humans as such less than that?
If we played the same hunger games,
If we always remained the same,
Then we’d all be inhuman.
For what makes us human?
Ability to talk, to walk to reason?
For those who can’t, are they naught?
Are they really inhuman?
The dark, the mute, the deaf, the lame,
The slow, the blind, the old, the weak?
We are more than the words we know how to speak.
We are more than the angels we reason fly above us.
We are more than the gravel we walk
Whether dry or wet beneath.
We are.
We are.
With skin as dark as pavement
We walk.
Into the sun to bleach our hair
We walk.
Burn our faces,
All human.
As we move,
All human.
We can learn these truths.
From little ones we learn these truths.
They’re not human yet
So poor like dirt from the earth
To be a little more than a charity case.
Is the earth alive?
All the people, all over the world?
If yes, Julia, they are, then why
Why do we treat such pigs as human
And humans as such less than that?
If we played the same hunger games,
If we always remained the same,
Then we’d all be inhuman.
For what makes us human?
Ability to talk, to walk to reason?
For those who can’t, are they naught?
Are they really inhuman?
The dark, the mute, the deaf, the lame,
The slow, the blind, the old, the weak?
We are more than the words we know how to speak.
We are more than the angels we reason fly above us.
We are more than the gravel we walk
Whether dry or wet beneath.
We are.
We are.
With skin as dark as pavement
We walk.
Into the sun to bleach our hair
We walk.
Burn our faces,
All human.
As we move,
All human.
We can learn these truths.
From little ones we learn these truths.
26 November 2007
Jesus Blood Never Fails Me
break the chains that entangle me
by bloody hands and bloody feet
the crown of thorns that lingers there
misshapen back of flesh whipped bare
cruelest hope yet ever inside
the only reason why He died
hoping to hold fast to hate
to treat these wounds while pains abate
by the lymphocytes running out from his side
clean my death and morph to life
these shackles ended around my feet
the hands as hands of ours shall meet
spread out my arms upon this cross
making your heart my only loss
if I reject you from within
this soul will forever be slave to sin
to keep ahold of mercy’s grace
by hanging myself beside your face
intimidated by the whips abound
facedown, in the blood, on the ground
freedom’s face is often found
by reaching from on high and down
taking hell’s hold by the throat
and flipping off these entangling goads
by blood that runs out from a tree
by blood that covers, covers me
breaking the chains and binds that harm
freeing then raising every arm
to heaven’s angels looking on high
to heaven’s God who appeared nigh
freedom waits here in the blood
seeping out of flesh, and over the world as a flood
letting no one go unchained if asked
freeing the world from hallucinations at last.
ok, so this is another old one... but i love it
by bloody hands and bloody feet
the crown of thorns that lingers there
misshapen back of flesh whipped bare
cruelest hope yet ever inside
the only reason why He died
hoping to hold fast to hate
to treat these wounds while pains abate
by the lymphocytes running out from his side
clean my death and morph to life
these shackles ended around my feet
the hands as hands of ours shall meet
spread out my arms upon this cross
making your heart my only loss
if I reject you from within
this soul will forever be slave to sin
to keep ahold of mercy’s grace
by hanging myself beside your face
intimidated by the whips abound
facedown, in the blood, on the ground
freedom’s face is often found
by reaching from on high and down
taking hell’s hold by the throat
and flipping off these entangling goads
by blood that runs out from a tree
by blood that covers, covers me
breaking the chains and binds that harm
freeing then raising every arm
to heaven’s angels looking on high
to heaven’s God who appeared nigh
freedom waits here in the blood
seeping out of flesh, and over the world as a flood
letting no one go unchained if asked
freeing the world from hallucinations at last.
ok, so this is another old one... but i love it
22 November 2007
How Grace Works
the June bugs always stay into July
they fly and fly by night in the corner of my room
while lying down I try to think of you
but sometimes you seem as far as the stars
and nowhere near my heart
I only want to know you more as I lay here still
I just want to think of your grace that redeems
the worst sinners like me
and the ones the world will call the worst
the marriages failed
the miscarriages fulfilled
the babies born to unwed wombs
we call the worst sinners
the best of friends
now we all know how grace works
they fly and fly by night in the corner of my room
while lying down I try to think of you
but sometimes you seem as far as the stars
and nowhere near my heart
I only want to know you more as I lay here still
I just want to think of your grace that redeems
the worst sinners like me
and the ones the world will call the worst
the marriages failed
the miscarriages fulfilled
the babies born to unwed wombs
we call the worst sinners
the best of friends
now we all know how grace works
No Farther Than
No further than the walk across campus
No further than the walk up this hill
No further than the stars to the sky
No further than death’s leash grip pull
Savior sweet and highly lowly
Come and save this mourning one
This frail heart fetal curled up
Save this wretched bleeding spell
Frighten thieves and mongrels mocking
Dark designs woven from above
That glitter paints the open ceiling
Open to heaven, open to hell
Blind white the patriotic heart candies
While coping never really is its own
Passing streams of rainforest sewer water
Eating mushroom goats above the hill
Too blank to ever pass this
Too clean to never bleed
The evil oh so winterized can lead
Down while dark alleys light up
Pot smoking hippie markets cry on
For redemption’s only hand to find
The savior to nail in the spine
No further than the walk up this hill
No further than the stars to the sky
No further than death’s leash grip pull
Savior sweet and highly lowly
Come and save this mourning one
This frail heart fetal curled up
Save this wretched bleeding spell
Frighten thieves and mongrels mocking
Dark designs woven from above
That glitter paints the open ceiling
Open to heaven, open to hell
Blind white the patriotic heart candies
While coping never really is its own
Passing streams of rainforest sewer water
Eating mushroom goats above the hill
Too blank to ever pass this
Too clean to never bleed
The evil oh so winterized can lead
Down while dark alleys light up
Pot smoking hippie markets cry on
For redemption’s only hand to find
The savior to nail in the spine
The Residue Here
As I have slacked off on writing poetry for the past year and a half or so, I have decided that I need motivation to do so, to write more, and to write as good as I had been. What better way than to know that people are reading my poetry and that some will be asking when I will write more... That is motivation enough for me. To start the blog, I will start with a few old favorites, and continue on from there... Wherever that may be.
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