Poetry Hour

So, I was thinking about life goals yesterday, and that one of them was to write a book of poetry to be published. Then it dawned on me that now I can simply publish it myself.

This is all pretty poor stuff. And, I tend to write when I am feeling very down as an outlet so that I can then think more clearly and positively.

Now I can go check something off my list.


Turnaround

Forgiven by all others you cast the stone at yourself
And wash cleansed hands until dirtied,
By your own impotent blood.
By unbelief you regret the day that will never be
For the regret of the day that was

And console yourself with Billy’s song:
“Love is suicide” and you’re too young to die
Sit and listen to self-esteem songs and little black lies.
Frustrate yourself with the poverty of your own words.
Candor is only captured in the lines you didn’t write.

Just enough bliss to make you miserable.
Just enough hope to hurt when it fails.
And thinking back to ponderances past
You recall to mind this supposed fact:
Hell is where expectations and reality never meet.

And you place your withered heart placed upon the altar
The stitches you made torn and frayed
Seeking to avoid the final viable option
To die to self or to simply die

Wondering why you hoped only for nirvana
When He offered you an abundance
Delivered, redeemed in His presence,
Not absorbed in paralyzed emptiness

And you start to pull the weeds from your wailing wall.
And quiet the call of the suicidal martyr.
Chipping away the plaster mask you’ve placed upon His face.
And witness the resurrected expectations rising from the temple.

Putting together His simple truths,
And walking in the joy of the distant promise
The bread you are eating now tasting as wine.
And your dry praises start to flow with fire.


New Year’s Eve

Think about the last five years of my life and wonder if I lived,
Fearful of the absolute fury of His love and mercy,
If love is suicide, Christ would not have risen from Calvary.

Stubborn heart fighting a losing battle against faith, hope and love,
No alternative to suffice, to not be pitied in this life is enough.

Disbelieving you desire all of me,
Give me a new heart with eyes to see.
I drop my head when I hear you call,
But you move me from shackled cell to palace hall.

You wipe the tears while I shutter at your touch.
I see the broken gift I gave you, not tossed away and crushed
But remade, breathed into life and taken flight.
All along it was you, my Friend, who called on New Year’s night.


After A Breakup

All the seasons changed
The fullness of a year was gone
But like starlight and sunlight
We only met at dusk and dawn

The time in between
Your waking and your dreams
Is when you face your fears
And the Lion whispers in your ear

To tell you in His shadows hide
By rod and staff take His guide
And all the serpent’s angered shouts
Will be silenced and drowned out

I fear the empty laughter and shallow smile
A depth without substance that blows away in trial
But I need you to free me from the tyranny of sadness

Ezra read and I wept and mourned
The guilt of my heart dripped through my skin
Give me a desire for happiness
Let doubt and fear gather their own ashes

Your joy is my strength and I feel so frail
Gather me around friends and angels wings
See me through my despondent prayers

I won’t let this heartache be my demise
Kill the I in me and fill me with your glory
I know you’re waiting there on the other side


From a December

Can you heal the wounds I have made?
Will your grace make this self-affliction fade?
Or is it another lesson learned too late?
A promise with a condition I couldn’t make?

I try to sing but the words stick in my throat
I hide behind my broken pride,
The innocent plea of a beggar-thief
I failed to receive the gift you gave
And all that is left is empty space

Fear, like the cherub’s flaming sword keeps me from your garden
Pride begins to swell my soul and its calluses start to harden
Forgive me


The Night Has Passed

Enjoying the purity of the new year
A glimpse of what one day will be
Unhindered by any encumbrance
Unstained by any sin
The night has passed
Pushing back the doubts
Turning from the questions
To the presence of the King

And of these things silence speaks
But I could not hear the words
A deaf lamb to a speaking Shepherd
Until you touched my ears
And the candle lit by a friend
Sparked the consuming fire in my soul