The Emptiness

An empty place in heaven,
The Son has left for a while,
The absence of his laughter,
is everywhere,

An empty space in a manger,
The child has grown into a man,
The place of his arrival,
Is but a stepping stone,

An empty place on the cross,
The saviour has come to nothing,
The jeering winds of mocking tongues,
Still whistle past its wood,

An empty ache in disciples hearts,
Their world has fallen apart,
They've been woken with a start
From the sleeping where they dreamt of thrones,

An empty place within a tomb,
He is risen from the dead,
An empty claim death had on him,
He's back just like he said,

An empty sky where they stand,
And stare...

Flood

The floods came,
They came, they came,
They took everything,
Everything,
Took it in their game,

The sky came,
And opened its' heart to me,
And poured its hard tears down,

As the waters rose,
They rose, they rose,
Like a fast approaching date,
Like the devil in my destiny,
Like the unsealing of a fate,
The waters rose to float my resolve,
Clean out through the flood gate,
And heavens gate can wait,

And heavens gate can wait,
Can wait,
Till the tide of love's receded,
The flotsam of this fickle heart,
The jetsam of victories conceded,
Leaves debris on my banks,
Like dissent amongst the ranks.

For what the flood took,
And what the flood brought,
Have filled my fragile landscape,
And bought my resolve,
To nought.

The muds came,
They came, they came,
The softened earth sucks in,
Every foot that would walk in it,
Like love has softened sin,

Come walk a mile or two with me now,
Walk a mile beside the river,
You'll find the terrain quite different now,
The catastrophic event,
Has proved a real forgiver.

Satan’s Lullaby

Sleep now, sleep now, oh waker,
(and  Christ will pass you by),
You were warm before you woke,
And its so, so cold outside,

You were content and safe whilst asleep,
Of that, I made very sure,
Return to where the dreams will keep,
And where dream's opiate is pure,

So return to sleep my little love,
Tis not the lark that you hear,
Listen to daddy's lullaby,
Sung sweetly in your ear,

Go back to sleep my little prince,
And dream of safer things,
Than the love of God and the end of man,
And of loyalty to kings,

Sleep now, sleep now, you wakened,
Return unto the dead,
Christ will pass you by,
So ignore the cold and dangerous world,
Pull the covers back up over your eyes.

The Passengers

We are just passengers,
In this car called history,

We can act up,
Wriggle about,
On the back seat,
Make a bit of noise,
Sing a song or two,
But we will not change,
Its' destination,

One,
Little,
Bit.

Second Cesarean

School was for me.
A second Cesarean,
An enforced eviction,
From safety and warmth,

Scalpel sliced from the belly of the family,
This time it was a cold incubator for me,
Where they suckled my mind,
With milk wrung from my soul,
Where they drip fed me lies,
With all they had stole.
Where even the teachers,
Used shame to control,
When I had once felt accepted,
Now, thrown to the cold.

I was sucked out from that warm dark place,
For the second time in my life,
From the bosom and embrace,
Of my fathers loving wife,
Frightened and alone,
The freak fair had erupted,
If only I'd laid prone,
Played dead,
Rather than acting, instead,
On the false sense of security,
With which my family blinded me,

If I had played dead,
Instead,
Of playing in the playground,
If I had curled up,
Embryonic,
Small and round,
Perhaps, perhaps,
I could have created my own womb,
where the papercuts,
Of a thousand chants,
Were never given room,

I was taken from the bosom of one,
And placed with a hundred others,
But my world of love reduced,
To unheard, unsung cries for mothers,

The crimson flesh of the door flopped shut,
Like an incision in the morning,
The strangelight burned my eyes,
A bleaker new world dawning,
"You'll have to toughen up,
You cannot live on love",

"Love will not feed you,
When we are dead and gone,
You've had four years of suckling,
It's time, my son, to move on..."

That taunted bullied child,
Still lives in the breast of me,
The child thrown to the wolves,
Beneath the skin of me,

He's never far away,
huddled in the womb,
Of my sense of fairness,
I made a tiny room,

I tell him, from time to time,
When I am not taking his mad advice,
To remember my third cesarean,
When I was reborn,
Thrice.


When I was ripped from an infected womb
From the gestation of a dark place,
Feeding from sinful placenta,
deforming with no visible trace,

Ripped out by the surgeon,
Ripped from death, to life
Scared as hell and sinsick,
Blinking in heavens light,

He and I must walk some way,
But my dying twin,
Will die some day,
and I will go walking on,
Into heavens bright sun.

If Christmas wasn't about Jesus

If Christmas wasn't about Jesus,
You could shove it up your ****,
If not about the virgin birth,
The whole things a bloody farce

They say its about the family,
About keeping it together,
But the love and warmth in our house,
Is as warm as the bloody Weather,

It only goes to highlight,
It only goes to show.
That if the son of God were to come this year,
He'd soon turn round and go.

And if it were not about the simple things
Like peace, love and  good will,
I should take this thing called Christmas,
And send you all the bill,

For all the disappointment,
For all the flaming rows,
I'll tot it up, now you owe me,
At least a million pounds.

If Christmas weren't about Jesus,
You could stick it where it's dark,
For the memories of passed on loved ones,
That all shout out 'hark',

Forget about the angels,
They have had their turn,
If it wasn't about baby Jesus,
I'd watch the whole lot burn,

I'd burn the high street Christmas lights,
I'd burn all the unrequited cards
I'd burn all the expensive presents
That were opened to discard,

I'd burn the flaming turkey,
If it wasn't already burnt,
Id burn the after dinner games,
You'd have thought they might have learnt,

Psychopaths in Xmas hats,
Acting out Godzilla,
My interest is the facial equivalent,
Of cheap and nasty stocking filler,

I've had enough of pressure,
from the kids and from TV
I have to have an Xbox, Dad,
I really need a Wii,

When Jesus came at Christmas,
Did he say now here's good news,
This is going to cost you,
Right down to your shoes,

I came to bring the poor good news,
And to set the debtor free,
And the bad news is, why spoil the surprise,
You'll see in January,

But when I think, of the son of God,
lying soft asleep,
And think that he came for us ungrateful lot,
it makes me want to weep,

I could get to like Christmas,
If I thought about that more,
Instead of all the fake smiling,
That's bought an ache into my jaw,

If Christmas wasn't about Jesus,
You could stick it where the sun don't shine,
And you could stick this poem there as well,
No one wants to hear me whine.

Thank You For The Cost

(to the tune of Graham Kendricks "thank you for the cross")

Thank you for the cost.
The price you loaned to us,
Where you gave yourself,
In lieu of interest,

Precious Lord, Precious Lord,

Calvary's work is done,
All forgiven,
So we can pay you back,
When the day of judgement comes,

Thank you Lord, thanks a lot,

Oh I'm saving Lord,
Really saving Lord,
Enough good works for me to hope to pay the fee,
You're my banker now,
you're the one I owe,
And the scariest thing of all oh Lord I see,
Is what you expect from me.