Deliver My Soul
Deliver my soul
From the pain of each day;
Just come and love me
In a very special way.
Daily I think of you
I really care so much;
Daily I long to feel
Your very special touch.
MY days are getting shorter
The time on earth will past
An my heart will never feel the love
That I desire from you at last.
I know the outside displays
A sight that many can’t stand;
But yet there’s a heart inside
That desire to be loved by a special man.
I write words of my emotions
I write words I just want to share;
And daily I often Pray
That one day you will really care.
Three words to do magic, touch the stars
Three words to undo a lifetime of hate
And anger, these all will be quenched
Thirsty yet, for those three words?
The triple threat, those beautiful ones are
Said with none of the regret
Do it all over, not a chance you bet
Then trust me to stop and say
Just the three
Most precious and sought after words,
Just those unbelievably powerful visceral like
Vocabulary vocal treasures, vanquishing evil
With heavenly grace, say them with me now
I love you
And did I mention... God does too.
When all my days have faded
Into my children's memory,
May they recall I loved the Lord
And tried his messenger to be.
Let them remember words I said
To guide them safely on their way.
Please give me words of wisdom Lord,
That will survive beyond my day,
Words that will a beacon be
For loved ones coming after me.
Easter
Find that spirit inside you that raised Christ from the dead
The spirit that He showed to us with the breaking of the bread
In His pain and passion He died so we may live
And broke the bonds of death and taught us to forgive
And in the cup He gave his blood shed for all mankind
With healing words of love giving light to whom once were blind
Many who gave witness wrote these words for us
That we live in faith and to Christ’s word give trust
So on this Sunday morning give thanks for all his love
As the King of Kings watches over us with the Father from above
5/8/2011
Copyright 2011
I opened my Bible today.
The first thing I noticed was how yellow the pages seemed -
then the odor of it rose to my nostrils,
my head filled with images.
At first I thought how sad -
I should be ashamed of myself.
Has it been so long since I opened my Bible
that it smells of a book lost in the dark recesses of a library?
One pushed, little by little,
to the back,
as if it was set aside for newer and more exciting volumes -
possibly soon for the discard pile?
Gradually my perception evolved,
realizing the book had taken on the life of the ancients.
Now it not only was the words of men explaining the word of God,
but it had the atmosphere of the ages.
Speaking in sync with its historical time
the words made a greater sense.
They weren't at all the same words that I had to memorize in Sunday school -
But the hearts of men singing.
I wish I could say, that it gets easier every year,
The truth is everyday I shed a tear,
For the memories ill never have,
And the conversations ill never hear.
I've talked to no one about you,
I've kept things to myself,
All my secrets reside,
In the words guarded by there shelf.
Missing but not gone,
I try to remain strong,
These words help me hold on,
There whispers my memorial for you.
You gave me this gift,
These "voices in my head",
You have been with me,
The moment that life became dead.
Without this experience,
I wouldn’t be who I am,
Inside you help me strive,
To be a better man.
And I thank you dear lord,
For giving me this star,
To wish upon at night,
Because of you I know he's not far.
REGRET
Angry words spoken
In a heated moment
Cut like ice
Chilling the bone
And scarring the soul
Can’t take them back
Or erase the sting
Can you receive
Softly spoken words
Of repentance?
To trust again
Is not easy
Decisions made in haste
Lived out with regret
Joy is abandoned
Only despair
Covers the soul
And obscures our dreams
With hopelessness
Suppressed longings
Lie hidden under
Layers of self-contempt
Can you receive
A divine solution
To free the soul
Of its’ delusion?
To believe again
Is not so easy
Beauty for ashes
If we can receive
mja
So humbled from your creation.
Amazing over abundance painter's pallet filled.
Like poetry, spoken words brings and speaks to life.
Your brush strokes are living words both cutting and healing.
Extra ordinary being, from you comes all poetic scribblings and depth.
Teach us daily to paint as you
Reveal your secerts to your childern that yearn to know
Our faith is placed in you as we sleep and wake each day and journey
Open our eyes to the beauty of your pallet of raident and torrible colors.
“The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof but canst
not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth.” John ch 3. vs 8.
In a plain bound book
I tattoo white paper in blue
Then wrap myself in this shaman’s cloak
To fly with the eagle to a sky renewed.
I sing words salvaged from the press
In the intervals of Te Deum,
Stolen from its church,
Sung so only its melancholy shines.
Pärt turned to church and tradition
Amidst a century of horror,
And I turn to these conjured spirits
In a world polluted by podcast trash.
Inwardly, I turn – not without question.
The simplest words are sewn with elaborate doubt.
But into the image of inwardness
I dive deeper, and there find reasons to go on.
In the mandalas, strange mazes, of this book
I encircle, tame, and then hold fast
The sound of the blowing wind.