More poems coming soon!
I'm Not Here
I am only half a soul
'til heavenward I rise.
I don't fully see, you know,
'til death opens my eyes.
Oh, I can work and live and do
but all my heart is gone.
It's melded into Jesus' heart:
at death my soul turns on.
No, I'm not really here at all
for upward I've been drawn;
meanwhile I learn and serve and wait
until that golden dawn.
Living Lie
Eat the lie.
Wash the crooked down
with make-believe.
Swallow deceptions whole.
Worldlings dare you:
copy them
without choking.
You'll get used to it;
addicted, more like.
Soon the Rock's honey
cannot be stomached,
neither the salt of the earth,
and too late
the discovery:
you are what you eat.
Prayer Is
Ceasing spinning;
back to Center.
Catching complaints
to sing a praise.
Standing reasoning
in faith's corner.
Setting impulses
beneath His gaze.
And sitting down
long enough
to let go.
Praying Pawn
Oh, praying pawn
knowing nothing,
stand still,
wait!
His hand will move you.
You are small, most ignorant of all
to strategies
not even known
to rook or knight
or king.
Valiantly
you play your part,
forge the frontline,
aim attacks
against the black foe
toe to toe.
Inch by inch
you'll cross the field,
first near home
then deeper
into enemy camp.
If grace be yours,
if God wills,
one day
you'll reach the farthest shore
where you'll be Queened,
transformed,
made at last to be
ever powerful and free.
Rainwash
Rainwash Son blood
fall fall
drop drop
Down rinse Strip wrong
clean clean
away away
Dust mud Sin filth
slide slide
free free
Storm's mist Christ's red
lighten whiten
me. me.
Salvation: Operation Salvage
(S.O.S.)
We started out real cool, man.
Then the snake-man trashed us.
He was a ring-leader,
so we joined his gang.
Now the planet is a junkyard--
We're all polluted bad.
The Big Boss brought in
His crane,
lowered the boom,
and started cleaning up.
He's a small-time operator;
only Him,
and two other bosses.
They started salvaging
with a crew
of only twelve guys.
But they're gig is
the recycling game, man.
And they're real good.
Once a hunk
hits their magnets
the success story
is a done-deal!
They run us through
this giant furnace, see,
and all the bad is
torched right out of us.
To get us to go through,
Bossman Two went ahead first.
The heat killed Him.
But the Big Boss gave Him
a new life!
He's like, untouchable now.
Yeah man, the furnace hurts--real bad.
But we're tough 'cuz of Him 'ya know.
The Big Boss dared us, kinda.
But He's real cool.
He told all us polluters
'bout a construction job
He's doin' just for us.
He says it's way outa town--
clear on the other side
of the tracks.
He told me
there's a special flat
just for me.
Yeah. The Big Boss
is really tops.
I'm stickin' with Him.
Sunday Reading
Conspicuous front-porch pages
drop and shock on the
threshold of days.
Though inviting to covet
with bright-slick allure,
these banners of the bed
are drowsy-scanned--
eyes
sewn together
with sleep.
Unobstrusive shelf-gracing volume
tucked and kept in the
background of lives.
Since plainly mysterious,
with deep-sought pleasure,
this Divine diary
must be Spirit-read--
hearts
thrown open
with prayer.
Terrible Love
I quake in terror
of Your love,
oh Lord.
It is
too much,
the way You
killed Yourself
for me.
I deserved
the reprimand,
the punishment,
the death-blow.
But You
twisted back
upon Yourself
those mockings,
that whip,
my Cross.
And viewing the Calvary hill
I shake in fear of You!
Who are You,
Alien Lover?
From what far realm
have You flown to rescue me?
Why invade
this dense,
and blind,
and self-filled
world?
I quake in terror
of Your Love,
oh Lord.
Two Fires
Two judgments blaze and burn from God
so similar in heat.
Two peoples enter in and find
they can't escape or cheat.
It's either fire of hell or trial,
we choose our own terrain.
The one is softer, shorter, kind,
the other endless pain.
The Hebrew children, loving God,
were thrown into a fire.
Yet never burned, their joy increased,
their love for Him sparked higher.
A burning bush in Moses' eyes
was not consumed away,
thus God will not destroy the soul
whose glow His pow'rs display.
There is a lake of fire, we've read,
where rebel souls are cast,
destructive torture ever kills
and death forever lasts.
This lake of judgment merely shows
His Love supremely high.
If void of Love these empty souls
will simply always die.
Our God is a consuming flame
not just to souls in hell,
for if we feel His heat today
it means we love Him well.
But if your life is ease and play
beware the final gate,
for there will blaze the hurt you dread,
but then you'll know too late!