DRAGGED BEFORE MEN AND THEIR GODS
LIFTED UP IN ROYAL HUES
STUFFED INTO THE SHALLOW CONFINES OF MEN’S EMPTY DESIRES
THEY WOULD FASHION HIM A MANNEQUIN
ON DISPLAY FOR PASSERS BY
IN IRONY NOT KNOWING WHAT WAS PASSING THEM
IN IRONRY THEY SHACKLED HIM TO A MANTLE THAT ONLY HE COULD BEAR
FORCED HIM TO WEAR WHAT DID MAKE FOR THEM, A KING
A CROWN OF THORNS, THE RING OF MARRIAGE
EMBEDDED IN HIS HEAD
ENMESHED WITH HIS LIFE
SPILT IN HIS BLOOD
A SYMBOL OF HIS LOVE
A WORTHLESS LAMB IN POLITIC AND FORM
A CARTOON, A SUNDAY MORNING SATIRE ABOUT HOW MUCH GOD KNOWS
A LOW BLOW
WITH A HAND TO THE HEAD
THE POLLUTED WORSHIP LEADING THEIR HANDS
THEIR HEARTS AND THEIR MOUTHS FALLING TO SADISM
AND THEY DID HATE HIM
IN MASOCHISM BEATING HIM
LAUGH TRACKS AND VIOLENT BLOCKING
SPITTING AT HIM
SELLING HIM OFF TO SAVE THEM ONE DAY
The voice resounds
pounding the earth
trodden by men and monster,
the grass leans to it, the trees bow to it,
the concerns of every heart foster the still small voice of a God who is there.
But in the black of blindness we forget the call
the whisper of volumes covering the earth
finding our every hiding place
appalled at the rhythm, the cadence of the voice.
Come back to me.
We stand at the gates of perdition’s flame
eyes seared in the wake, tears born from the burning ashes of those before
and through the door we would blindly stride,
save for the rhythm which flows
confide only in the melody of that voice which bids come back to me.
We find a man of like demise
propitiation throws him within our sight
and glances like daggers proceed whips broken upon his back
the voice he has
the cadence wrapped in limbs like ours, in hands which grasp to know what only the mind can see
The God who is there
spoke in silent steps becoming one to the road of suffering like the hammers which would drive the nail, broken by the weight of love
the dove of peace descending to lift him beyond our veil
tempted and tested and entering the city as the King he came to be
pail anemic complexion marred with red flesh
See the man who would be king.
Left and right in trinitarian form
voices choosing their destiny amidst a sea of roman riot.
One voice prevails
hailing like thunder upon the annals of last confessions
unseen in its power but spoken from the cross, the throne of zion.
Forgive them for they know not what they do.
In the beginning spoke the voice the words that could not be extinguished
couched in anguish, soaked in blood, torn asunder by the leather of baal, chained to creation by iron and raised in blasphemy above your children.
Ironic bail from a prison of ones own creation.
And even with no one at his side to hear his voice
no one to protect or to defend him
the darkness could not fight the voice. The darkness could not comprehend it.
The darkness could not comprehend him.
In the end
his voice stands
spoken into victory
risen into history
proof of true love
resolve of light in the darkness
He is not dead,
silent in the graveyard of humanities ambition,
one voice among the crowd of those who stood out.
His voice resounds as sure as the light of day finds every seed,
His voice tells us he is risen.
He is risen indeed.
she looked my way
just like the others
it was the first time that we met.
I caught her eye
but for a moment
it was life lived in a blur
I can’t say how her look revealed me I can’t process all that was said
but from the short time that I knew her
I was forever in her debt.
She was complex and yet so simple
she taught me things I’d never heard.
she showed me love was more than romance
because her love was undeserved
and she grew up though no one else would
and her applause were silent praise
from a young child to a woman
who crossed his path because he’d prayed.
you want so much someone to save you and so you call at passers by
but if your still you’ll hear the echo
your not the only one who cries
I never thought that I could give her
half what she could give to me
but I followed suit
and gave her all
and she returned it all to me.
she looked my way like no other
though only briefly we had not.
she caught my eye
but for a moment
there was life inside that blur
she has a look that is revealing
there are no words for its effect.
but for the short time that I knew her
I am forever in her debt.
been waiting a long time for the sunrise.
been waiting a lifetime for a glance in your eyes.
hoping and praying
wondering and waiting
to see if I meet you tonight.
I’ve looked in the mirror to see if you’re there
saw a reflection so cold,
Looked on the inside
the outside and what lies between, but you weren’t there.
How long can I remain in stagnant inconclusion
Before I create unwanted absolution
And end the beauty of intelligent design.
Can I continue to deny both
The flow of the sea and the course
Of the wind in foolish
Pretense of wisdom?
If knowledge is left calm for comforts sake,
Then is wisdom not forsaken for the sake of calm?
And all this is pointless rotting my soul and leaving my soul
If not for you.