BEEN AROUND.
I am nothing more than a collection
Of what I have been given, stolen and found;
By what I am every day of my life
Singularly spun around;
And wound,
Without the grounding that I need.
Not humble, meek and repentant;
Prayerful to a gracious Lord;
Rather missing the rhyme and the rhythm
Of living; One note short of a chord;
Battered by the world outside me
And the folly I find within; I cling
To the false gods
Of yesterday and tomorrow
While I confuse the present with sin
And become less who I am,
Forever a soul;
And more what a poorer man has been.
2014.04.03.0100 ©
*******************
PLEASURE AND PAIN
Not impressed, huh, by the construct
Of this poor pilgrim’s life?
That is okay,
It is a mission of need;
I tear down the man
That I would build up by sin
Then I search
For the beggar within him
To feed.
I bleed regularly
From the nails and the piercings
To which I willingly open
My arms and my heart;
The pleasure comes
From learning the words
For the actions and in playing
The complementing parts;
Losing myself to the winner, the day,
Searching for a life giving spark;
Leaving the drama
With the scars of it all,
A mere memory,
Small solace,
For the marks.
2014.04.03.0200 ©
********************
BEING HUMAN
I am a better human being
When I am fasting and silent and still;
Not trying some personal need or desire to fill;
Rather, thinking more of the Father’s will.
So everyone is free of the desire
Or the necessity to kill me and
I am not trying to thrill anyone;
Everyone and everything is free
From me and with me;
I am part of eternity and
I pray you too that way to be.
2014.04.03.0700 ©
********************
HUMBLE VISION
Your order and your control and
Your ability to judge amazes;
Yet, perhaps you say
The same thing about me;
Oh, but I think that I am working
On being nobody
In the eyes of everyone
Who think they see;
Well, maybe I am not yet successful
So please understand my humanity
And I will keep giving you the upper hand
And trying more humble to be.
2014.04.03.0900 ©
*******************
DEAD HEAD
Every word I say to you
Echoes in my head;
But it is the ones I write on paper
By which my soul is led;
Because knowing that you see my idea
Means our minds and hearts are wed;
Unless you think a different viewpoint,
Then I am probably to you, dead.
2014.04.03.1100 ©
**********************
SIMPLE SPARK
There are times when
Solitude,
Alone,
Can touch my soul;
Still others that require the addition of
The dark;
But the depths need sometimes
Be embraced by true
Silence;
If I am ever the Spirit to hark;
To turn from what I have and
What I know about life
To an eternal kingdom within
Which He can spark;
One marked by the enchantment
Of simple being
Where I can always
On my soul’s journey embark.
2014.04.03.2100 ©
*********************
