New Years Eve

It is the midnight of the months
The second hand of years
The resetting of the clocks
Where all the world
Wind themselves up
To forget the previous moments
Good and Sour
The stolen seconds
A dozen Eleventh hours,
The weakness of weeks,
Catalogued, categorized,
By calendar,

And again, begin again,
To gain a beginning,

Zero zero; zero zero,
Grounded and returned
No matter what bridges we've burned
What elementary lessons
Have had to be relearnt,
What heights have been fallen from
Or the depths from which we have been scraped up,
Time is on a pinnacle
A pinhead,
A seesaw balance
Between regret and hope
Past glory and potential future failures,

We reset like cooling Jelly,
taken out, to melt,
In summers warm belly,
And remoulded
and chilled once more,

How soon we forget
That every new year
Will be an old year later,
Forgotten  and left
Like past lovers
And childhood vows of devotion
Droplets consumed
 In the waters of the Ocean of time,
Afloat, on this boat
On this vast sea of rhymes
Of new years past and present
Reveries hideous and pleasant

The Year of the snake
Sheds its skin
The Russian doll
Of the truth within

That the journey of Transformation
Is not in leaving one place
For another destination,
But it is a peeling back of the layers
Skinning the years one by one
until finally
The raw and glistening core
is exposed to the elements
And at last we see
The Terrible and beautiful truth
Of who we really are
And what we really need,

And naked and raw
Shelled and in awe
I raise my hand
To the God of sea and land
The potentate of time
In this rightful state of mind
And touch his grace.

Delivery Suite

The room is all set

The forceps of foresight
The Hot water of Baptism
The towels of servanthood
The gas and air of joy in obedience,
Are all ready to go,

The Father is stood by, waiting to cut the chord,

The Angels draw the curtains of certainty
Around the Holy family
As the registrar of births
Waiting in the wings
What transpires, mystery
His story will only record

That the deliverer
Has been delivered

Save the chosen few,
No one heard the screams
No one saw the blood
No one held their breath
In anticipation of the shrill, almost angry
Defiant yell of existence
And the relief, it bought with it,

The silent night
Was split,
Christ, the saviour, is born,


The deliverer has been delivered.

Guest Room of the Heart

Not the squalor of a borrowed stable
But with joyful welcome in the human heart,
I will welcome him with all I'm able,
Though my gifts could barely make a start,

To pay my homage to the King of Heaven,
Not with Frankincense, myrrh or Gold,
But with the simplicity that I am able,
Take this baby to my heart, to hold,

Though you cannot be contained by heaven,
It is in us that you come to dwell,
Never ever will you leave, forsake us,
God with us, our Immanuel,

With all the clutter and the mess at Christmas,
We remember the child in Mary's womb,
Remember that the 'King that came', is coming,
Let every heart prepare him room.

Immanuel

You're lonely, deep down,
So lonely, but none can tell,
Surrounded by Saints
Yet you feel like hell,
And the solution is, Well,
Well, well, well,
It's God with us;
It's Immanuel.

Cant get through this pain
Cant face this painful hour,
Cant take another minute,
It isn't in your power,
The solution is, Well,
Well, well, well,
It's God with us,
It's Immanuel,

No one understands
What you are going through
No one knows your estrangement,
No one feels like you do
But someone does, well,
Let me tell
Tell
Tell
It's Jesus
Our Immanuel,

Priceless presence with us,
This pearl within our shell,
The precious peace in whirlwind's eye,
It's too valuable to tell,
It's free to me, I cannot buy or sell,
Sell,
Sell,
It is God with me
Revealed to me,
My Immanuel

Taken where you do not want to go

Oh, Baby Jesus,
How strange that sounds,
Like 'newborn-ancient'
Like 'Finite-infinity'
Like 'Temporal-eternal'
Oh Baby Jesus,
Look at you now,
God and yet unconscious of it,

You smile up at me
From that manger,
Your tiny little fingers
Would explore my mouth
And stretch my eyelids,
Were it not for that swaddling,

Oh Baby Jesus,
Those hands will be bound again
But first they will be freed,
They will explore, and fumble and take
They will give and mend and break,
As you slowly become
The man God made you to be,

Oh Baby Jesus,
Whose words formed stars
look at you now,
You can't even form words,
You can't even say 'ah',
Just 'buh, buh'
And raspberry's
And squeals
You don't even know the deal yet,

Oh Baby Jesus
Tightly wrapped in clothes another chose
But you will learn to dress yourself
And follow the calling
Wherever it goes
Though for now
You must stay where you're put,

When you were 'younger'
You went where you wanted,
And if it wasn't there
You made there,

When you were younger
You clothed yourself in light
And righteousness made a pretty cool coat,

But, Oh, Baby Jesus,
Look at you now,
Tucked in
Wrapped up
And dribbling
Blowing spit bubbles,

When you're older you will dress yourself
And go where you please


And then, when you are a little older still
You will stretch out your hands
And you will be pinned down again

And then, when you are a few days older than that,
You will stretch them out again,
To family and friends

To one who cant believe
and to another
Who cant forgive himself

And you will say

"When you were younger you dressed yourself
And went where you wanted;
But when you are old you will stretch out your hands,
And someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.”

And, Oh Baby Jesus, you will know
Exactly what you are talking about,
Because you laid down your life
Long before
You ever took it up.

And looking at your tiny unsuspecting face
Baby Jesus
Though it knows me not, yet
I can see
The greatest love

Christmas Echoes (Repeat the Sounding Joy)

The song from all creation
Of mysteries for words; too deep,
Sung from every voice of nature
Summoning Adam from his sleep,

The song from birthless eternity
The splendours of his joy
Were hid from mankind, from then, till now,
Until the arrival of this boy,

Held from our ears, until we sing it,
Until at last we see this Christmas boy
The song that has been always waiting
For loosened tongues to employ,

The Angels singing with exaltation
Glory to the Lord on high
They cannot contain their joy this moment
As we listen, our very ancient essence sighs

Sighs to sing the song of ancients
The source of life, within this boy,
Can you feel the tug of heaven,
To repeat the sounding joy?

We simply open our unstopped mouths
Our hearts with wild and wide-eyed abandon, gaze,
And out spill all our adorations
To the secret spirit's longing,
Hidden yearning, throughout all our days,

Listen closely, can you hear the melody,
From celestial beings rise
A pitch beyond natural hearing,
But if you're still and close your eyes,

You can hear it

The song resounds in supernova
The vibrations from atom's mysterious chant
All creation somehow declares it
And yet, at times, somehow we can't,

But the wonders on display at Christmas
Wrapped up, exposed, in baby boy,
Calls to us with the choir of Angels
To repeat
The sounding Joy,

All life should be a tuning in
To natures song, to Angels ploy
To get us in the heavenly choir,
each day to repeat
The sounding joy.

And repeat
The sounding joy

And repeat
The sounding Joy

The echoes of
Resounding joy

Peace on Earth

When peace shall finally be spoken
When bones shall no longer be broken
Split asunder with shell
Flesh forced apart by semtex and shrapnel
When factions shall finally cease
And prisoners of conscience, see release
When hearts will cease to wage
War with God on every page
Of the book of human life,
When there is an end to strife,

When The last tear has been shed
When the last drop of blood has been bled,
When sword is forged into ploughshare
And spears into pruning hooks there,
And the dark, dark art of war
Will be studied never more,

When there is no more death or dying
And no more sorrows sighing,
For sorrow and sighing will have flown away
When the old order has passed, on that great day,

When Bethlehem's baby is returned as king
And the whisper of peace that he brings
Will be heard and felt by all
As loud as a mighty waterfall,

Then and then only will the peace fully come
That was spoken of, when the angels sung
Of goodwill and peace on the earth
At the advent of saviours birth,
An echo of what is to come
This peace
Complete
This whole shalom

Adoption

It seems almost perverse
Like logic
In reverse
That, with no time to rehearse
Without searching scriptures
Chapter and verse,
Without fathoming
How deep the purse
This finite man, Joseph,
Should adopt
The maker of the universe

The Maker who had first ,
Adopted him,
For better or  for worse
To be the one
Who would bear the one
Who would bear the curse,
To provide for the one
Who would disperse
The treasures of
This maker
Of the universe,

To Adopt the
everlasting
Father of
The universe,

He adopted
The child
Who would be orphaned
By his death,
The child Who, by his death
Would secure Adoption
For all,

And Joseph gazed
Without biology
On the baby face
Of eternity
And saw first
What none could see
Previous to this moment
In history,
And took Jesus, to his heart,
Took Jesus, as his own,
Took Jesus, in a manger,
As if it were a throne,

one

One of us
One with us
One to win us
One to give us

One more chance
At an infinite number
Of second chances,
One
To
Make
Free
Out of being
For
Us

Not aloof
No longer misconstrued as distant
Not far off
But so close
It is on your lips
And in your heart

You don't stand at a distance, saying,
How does it feel to bleed?
No.
God bleeds too
And he looked on what he had done
And he said
that it was good.

When God draws near

When God draws near
People Sing,
Zechariah,
The Angels
Mary, Magnifying,
Souls exploding
Gushing Forth
Rejoicing
Blessing
Glorifying,

Those moments
When rocks would cry out
If he had not just softened
The rocks into flesh

When we sat down and wept
Believing we were abandoned
Our captive hearts were like
Lifeless stone
Sunk, in the rivers
Of Babylon,

But when God draws near
There is singing,
What will be my song?
Is my heart still granite
In exile
Abandoned, by the waters
Of Babylon?

When Immanuel comes
What will be my Song?
In this,
The latest
Incarnation,
You've shown
You've been here
All along,

Never will you leave me
Nothing will cause you to forsake
Your exiled children,
In the desert
Nothing will make you break
Your promise,


Immanuel
God with us
Through waters
And through Flame
O come to us
O dwell in us
forever more the same.








(Please click on the link below to watch the 24/7 prayer Advent post that inspired this poem)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9eFiY7Y6mrM

Making An Entrance

His next big entrance
Will be a real show stopper,
The trumpet resounding
Summoning all
Of Heaven
And Nature
To the Final act,

Every eye will see
And many will wish they hadn't,
The Sun will Melt
And the Moon will wain,
Like blood red wax
As Heaven and earth
And the old Order
Pass away
On the great and terrible day
Of his coming.

Those who pierced him
Will look on him
And be pricked
To the quick

The dead will rise
To the meet the triumphant angels
In the skies
And his voice
Will be the thunderous sound
Of Many waters
And his face shall shine
Like lightening.

The Son of God
Sure can make an entrance,

But at the event
Of his advent
No ear can hear his coming
As if on tip toes
He creeps into the stable,
Through the stage side-door,
Bare,
And
Barely noticed,
Unremarkable
He could be anyone.

But then The super-natural God
Makes a habit
Of inhabiting the ordinary.

And, In a way,
Between making these two entrances
He made millions of entrances,
Making selective incisions
Into lives
Into hearts,
And
As the dear Christ enters in,
He made an entrance
For all to come
As top to bottom
He tore the veil,
And made an entrance.

Cynics Acrostic Christmas Kept

Precautious
Realistic
Expectation
Seems
Expedient,
No
Toys
Santa!

Many
Instances
Not
Chewed
Enough

Perhaps
Illness
Ensues
Soon


Cant
Really
Allow
Christmas
Keenness
Entering
Reality,
Son

Terminated
Unfortunately,
Remorselessly
Killed,
Expired;
Yuletide

Queens
Ubiquitous
Entertainment
Expected
Nowish
Sometime

Speaking
Pretty
Evenly
After
Cognac's
Had

In the manger

Careful with that baby
He is dangerous, I tell you,

You can wrap him
In swaddling
But you cant contain him

You can put him in a manger
But he wont be managed

You can bring him to the world in a stable
But your world may end up
Destabilised,

You can put him in your nativity
but he might run native

You can put him in your show
But he might not play

He wont take stage directions
Where you put him
He may not stay

He is just a baby
A baby, is what you say,
He may be just a baby,
But he wont stay that way.

Unwrapped

It seemed
To me
That after Adam
And Eve
Took the fruit
From the Tree
The gift
Of heartfelt ease
Was boxed up
And locked with keys
As God surveyed
The present
Of his presence
And all the ensuing
Aftermath
He sadly smiled
And said
'It's a wrap'.

Maybe, then, for later.


And through the following
wayward ages
God
At times
In various stages
Alluded to the long forgotten gift
Described it, in hope
That hope of it
Would cause us to seek,
To heal the rift,

But each time
It was put before us
We sadly chose
To ignore trust
And left
The gift
Unopened
And,
Were it for us
that would be hopes end,

But at the advent
Of the promised gift
God showed us
what
was hidden in clenched fist,
We thought it there
To fight,
We knew not love, aright

That this hand,
'The holy arm
Of God laid bare'
Was God
Unwrapped
For us
To share
In the mercy of his stand
The fist became
Open hand
As gently
At first
It tugged on beards
And kneaded Mothers breast
And later pinned
To scaffold wood
Where it came
To surrenders rest

This was
the gift
Unwrapped
The back
Of sin
And law
was snapped
And love
laid bare
For all
To see,
The boundless love
The humility,

The gift was God, himself
Unwrapped
And taken down,
From Eden's shelf,

The Lonliest Christmas

I'm taking just a moment,
To be thinking of someone,
Who was alone this Christmas,
Who's only child is gone,

No ringing telephone for him,
No knock upon the door,
No one to sing carols with,
No one to talk of days of yore,

The nest is empty now,
His Son has gone away,
The loneliest time, he's ever known,
Has come this Christmas day,

No laughter, today, will fill his rooms,
No casual fireside chat,
The only one, who truly loved him,
Has left, and that is that,

So Spare a thought,
For Father God,
Who spent the first Noel,
Separated from his family,
So we wont go through hell,
The hell of being lonely,
For eternity and Amen,
He made, the ultimate sacrifice,
And gave up his son to die for men.

Alternative Carol Verses

1~

Violent night, Holy fright
All is screams, All is fight
Round Yon Virgin Mother there
2000 years until gas and air,
You wont be sleeping for weeks
You wont be sleeping for weeks

2~

How Silently, How silently
The Wondrous gift is given
The writer of this particular verse
Was surely, flipping kiddin'
He'd clearly never seen a real birth
Yes, he surely was a male,
in describing the noise of that experience
Any words would fail.



3~

The Cattle are lowing
The  poor baby awakes
If those Cows don't shut up
We'll be eating beef steaks.

 

The Overshadowing

Mary's body Was over shadowed
By the power
Of the Most high
What happened, within
The Nebulous shadow
Happened to her
Without a sigh
As woven in the secret
Deepest, Darkest place
The light was born
Of truth
And grace
That would soon eclipse
Us all,

And Mary
Took each bit
Of light
And shade
And Gathered it
To her soul

And, In that moment
Of Divine acceptance
Surrendered will
She, herself
was Over shadowed
By the light
Now growing
Glowing,
Starting to fill,
Her womb,
Her heart
Her world,

So many shadows
Yet to be unfurled,

And gathered round the manger,
On Bethlehem's brightest night,
An ominous darkness Overshadows,
Creeping in the corners
Of our sight,
The arrival of joy,
Resounds echoes of loss,
The guiding starlight casts over the manger
The Shadow of
The coming cross.

Empty Spaces

Christmas is full
Of gaps,

The gap between waking
And opening presents,
The space in your belly,
To be filled with Turkey
And Mince Pies,

The space, in the middle of a cracker,
The ever lessening gap,
Decreasing between your thighs,

The gap between unwrapping,
Underwhelming gifts,
And sincerest of thankful replies,

The gap between what we expect to receive
And that which actually arrives,

The gap between what we can afford to spend
And our budgets limitations

The gap between western wealth
and so many impoverished nations,

The space where compassion should be
For the homeless on our streets
When we blow a weeks wages
On trainers for our feet,

The space between the good that we want to do
And the resources at our dispense
The distance between family members
Kept by sitting on the fence,

But the biggest and most glaring gap
is the smallest one of all
The pin-head size gap
The microdot
Embedded in the uterus wall,
The virgins uterus wall,
The hopeless void into which
The Christ child stepped
To bridge the gap
For all.

The Invitation

We are holding
An open stable
Just moved in
To your neighbourhood
We'd like to invite you
To a Christmas table
We'd love you to come
Bad and Good

Come as you are
In onesy, tracksuit
Or Sunday best
Come, if you like,
In your birthday suit
You wont be under dressed

The guest of honour
will be naked too
If you pick him up
He may puke on you
He may poke your eye
And smell of poo
But he is completely
Accepting of you,

What's that you say,
How vulnerable you feel
When going to a strangers'
For a sit down meal
Well the son of God
Knows exactly how you feel
But dining at the stable
Being vulnerable’s the deal

But it's worth it for the food
And you wont ever be misconstrued

So Come all ye faithless
Broken and despondent
O Come ye,
O Come ye,
To Bethlehem.

Before

Before the foundation
was laid, The lamb,
Was slain, Proclaimed,
The great I am,

Before Moses,
Before Abraham,
Before Adam,
Gave a damn,

Before the problem,
The solution was formed,
Before the first skin,
was ever warmed,
Before the Sun,
was the custodian,
Of all that is old,
The new thing is done,
Before it unfolds,

In the Heart of God
It's finished,
it is done,
The ancient eyes
On what's to become,
Late in time,
Behold him, Son,
Before the battle
The fight is won,

And as Adam walked
In new felt shame,
The word, was as naked,
As candle flame,
The light was the life of men,
And we behold his glory,
Now as then,

He shone in the darkness
Not that darkness could understand
To give light to the whole house,
He put him on a stand,

In the beginning.

Heavy light

When truth came
it found me wanting;

I shone its beams
Into the dusky recesses
Of the abandoned building
In which I had taken refuge,
And huddled, startled and
Hugging my drawn in knees for comfort
It's torchlight hit my sallow skin, in the dark
And found me blinking
Malnourished
And confused,
Blinking in this strange light
Like a creature of the deep.

When truth came
It found me
And it bought ugliness
As I slowly discovered
That it was not the light that I feared
But what it revealed.

The beauty of the light
bought so much ugliness
And again I craved the darkness,

To retract;
To blot out every memory of what I'd seen,
Even the whispish traces of sight itself.

I said in my heart
'Surely the darkness will hide me'
And in my withdrawal,
this 'light' become darkness around me once more,

But it could no longer hide me,
Once the truth had come
And found me wanting,
And I found myself,
squint eyed,
Forced to eye-feast on the squalor around me,

And very slowly
My soul attuning,
My eyes adjusting
Even opening now and then,
I began to see
That the light itself
was beautiful,
That it caused things to grow,
That it was a source of warmth
That it led me out
Of the security of ignorance,
Out of the ugliness
Of darkness.
.

But
Every now and then
It brings up something
Which drives me to seek the darkness once more

But there is nowhere to hide
Even the darkness
Is as light
In the truth
That is the way of it.

Surely you desire truth
In my innermost being
And so
Like a cat caught in a sunbeam
I stretch out into it
This beautiful light
That brings ugliness
This warmth
Which tells me
Just how cold I'd become,
I stretch out and
Against my better judgement
I offer myself to its rays.

Splayed

I see your moment now,
From an angle,
From a vantage I'd never expected,
Penned as it was,
Pinned as you were,

Like an insect in museum,
In a glass box,
The glass box,
With the  dark glass of scripture,
Translated from flesh to word,
to convey to me,
What my heart cannot conceive,
The word a window through which I peer,

At times in wonder and fascination,
At times in revulsion,
Drawn to look,
Like I am to some rabbit guts,
As I cycle past the carnage.

But not as in a museum,
Not as with insect;
This specimen is alive,
Squirming,
Pivoting on nine inch pins,
An uncomfy cross,
The pins through palms,
Like pens nail it down,
For the gospel writers,

He is living here in this moment,
It is no scene of death,
It is the death that will never die,
He is pinned to that wooden frame,
For all to see,
Splayed,

Arms open,
Like it or not,
"Here I am",
A forced offering of embrace,
To which he gave himself,
For better,
For worse,

Arms open to receive,
All hurled insults,
As the spit runs down his face,
His shame,
And ours,
Displayed for all,
Exposed,
Splayed,

And that loincloth,
That humanity, in fake modesty, placed
For the more sensitive visitors,
To this living museum of scripture,
That loincloth,
Was never there.

Here I am,
Splayed,
Displayed,
Look at me,
Look at me,
Now,
Through windows of history,

Here I am, hanging here,
All that is man,
All that is God,
In this shop window darkly,
Spit polish with your sleeve,
Rub away the grime of mystery,

Splayed,
Your fear,
Mob mentality,
Mob justice,
Rebellion,
Hate,
Greed,
Shame,
Splayed,

The depths of Gods love,
The unending mercy of his grace,
As they spat and cursed,
They missed the expression on his face,
His infuriating, forgiving Smile,
Displayed,
Splayed,

The visible image of the invisible.

Little Deaths

The wise man told me,
That every day,
Is full of little deaths;
Dying wishes.
Dying breaths.

That if in each tiny,
Microcosmic dying,
We meet our maker,
Within the sighing,

Then we can start
Our dying well,
That in the end
Our life will tell,

That the sting has met its salve
That fear shall no longer imprison
Our hearts resolve,

In the letting go,
We go home,
In the lifeless husk
A seed is sown,

In dying a little,
Every dying day,
In losing all,
We find our way,

When life is full
Of dying well,
Then heaven holds
No fear of hell,

So give me this day,
My daily death
Give me my bread
As you give me breath
Give me my life
As you give me my cross
To live and die for you
And not count the loss

Blip

These feelings
These thoughts

A Blip

This regret
Those oughts'

A Blip

This acceptance
That rejection

A Blip

This loss
This projection

A Blip

This separation
This Isolation

A Blip

This wilderness
This desolation

A Blip

This Pain
This undoing

A Blip

This brick wall
And the ensuing

A Blip

This Long dark night
This sorrows endurance

A Blip

This wait till the Joy of morning
This wait for reassurance

A Blip

These light and momentary troubles
These years on eternity's line of time

A Blip

A blip in time, in the light
Of the eternal weight of Glory's shine

A Blip.

Hold on.

Just a blip.

The power of deepening Memory

A bull Elephant,
I have heard it said,
Can be chained,
By a single peg,
The size and the depth,
Of the one that chained it,
as a calf.

The peg's roots,
Comparatively shallow,
Have deeper roots in the memory,
They mature with the calf,
Ever deepening,
Submerging within the skin of its brain,
Burrowing like a splinter,
Until it's spirit is infected.

Like the fabled 1st burn of the fire grate,
The child that is slapped,
Never relinquishes,
The first sting of it,
He wont easily return,
To the seared skin,
Of the primal burn,
And fear
Shall be his rod.

And once rejected
A child form within its peers
Shall retreat through all the years,
Recoiling like a hand from the flames,

And through the prisms
Of such mental prisons
All that is unseen
Is seen,

And the recording
I was just listening to
Now digital,
Now new,
No longer contains the jump,
But I still hear it,
And I always will,

And my mother still calls to me
Through a record scratch
That changed the words,
'So Cool'
Into 'Matthew'.

180814

The promise
Flows downstream,
The faithfulness
Trickles down the generations,

From Father
to Son,
It goes on,
The unfinished
Unbroken line
The faith that was his
Has also become mine
Your God
Is my God
Where you lie
I will lie,
I will go with you
And with you I will die.

Through years
From ancient days
The river flows
And winds its ways
And captures us
In rapturous praise.

The Faith that I had
Is now also yours,
And our God goes with you
Where ever the rivers course,

His faithfulness will never leave you
He wont die, like me
He is our Father in Heaven
And our home, eternally.

I'll meet you at the gates
Of that Mansion, by and by,
And we'll walk side by side
My sons, you and I.

And my Father
And his Father too,
And his Father before him
And the whole ramshackle crew,

Fathers and Sons, all brothers
All lost in Gods Great grace
True sons of the True father,
Caught up in love and praise

The faithfulness goes on
Unbroken in our line
Of broken bruised believers
From all corners of time,

A covenant of Love
The love that you were offering
A God to me, forever
And to my Offspring.

Hallelujah

Overflow

The overflow
Of a forgiven soul;

Forbids stagnation
Defies containment
Cascades love
Replenishes mercy
Refreshes wasteland
Quenches loneliness
Washes weariness
Lavishes hope.

Filled to the brim
And overflowing
Wave after wave
After wave.

Walls cannot keep us
Fear cannot gag us

In silence
Our hearts cannot stay.

Trees breaking free from protective collars

Although poems may follow, these need no words.

Scars don't stop us soaring

At some point
In this tree's young life
Some surgeon pruned
With saw as a knife
And hacked off limbs
Like divorcing a wife


And left nothing,
but sappy stumps
In greenery's absence
Knots, bumps and lumps
All that remained 
Were bark, roots and trunk
But you resolutely refused
To slip into a funk


All creatures that had made
Your branches their nest
Had crawled, flown and leapt
To some security and rest
In another's limbs
They make their request

And you,
Barren, fruitless
Bereft,
Stare at the stark sky
Crane to it's behest
Their is nothing for it,
Nothing else left


And you draw from your roots
Despite any pain
And, climbing, you rise
Skyward again
With no attachment
To divert your strength
You grow through the scars
You go to great lengths


And heights await you
Above canopies
And growing more still
You pass other trees
You leave them behind
Till they stand, tipped-toes at your knees


And ugly and scarred
It is you that stands stout
Stands beautiful beyond others
As your branches stretch out
Yes when the bough broke
And cradel fell
You grew through the pain
You conquered it well

The heavenly summoning
The eagles cries
The call of the sun
And the heights
And the skies
Was greater than pity
And so
Upwards we rise

Modern woes

I tell you woe to people like these,

They wont shake your hand

In case they catch some disease,

Yet where ever they go

They continually sneeze,

They'll give you discomfort

So they feel at ease,

They delouse your cat,

Yet they're covered in fleas,

I tell you woe, to people like these.

I tell you woe to people like these,

They wont help you out,

Because they're on their knees,

Praying for you

While you swing in the breeze,

Give you a dustpan,

While you stand in debris

from your recently imploded life,

They say “please...

I think you missed a bit...”

I tell you woe to people like these

I tell you woe to people like this,

Nice to your face

But to your back, it's a diss,

Their loving words are as kind

As Judas' last Kiss

I tell you woe to people like this.

I tell you woe to people like this.

They think they're all that,

But they're less hit, more miss,

Living the life-style,

Blowing the kiss,

Looking down on the poor

While in debt to the rich,

I tell you woe to people like this,

They've had they're reward,

All they clenched in their fist,

A hand full of fairy dust,

That disappears like the mist,

In the first light of day,

Like loves latest tryst,

The bed is all empty,

You wont be missed,

I tell you woe to people like this.

I tell you woe to people like those,

Who cried 'help the homeless,

Lets give them warm clothes',

But when crossing them, huddled

In the door of Waitrose,

Last December, they rather conveniently

Froze,

inactive and glued to the spot,

by their toes

I tell you woe, to people like those,

 

I tell you woe to people like you,

Who think that you're clean

In all that you do.

Outside; all porcelain,

Inside; all Loo,

Making a show,

If only they knew,

You think you've arrived

When really you're through,

Your body is old,

But your facelift is new,

You're fooling no-one,

Least of all, you

Woe to people like you

Woe to the whitewashed tombs

Woe to the face of it,

Woe to perfume,

That covers the scent

Which comes from the gloom

the rotting bones,

Stored in your room,

The skeleton closet,

Closest to discovery soon,

Woe to white house and woe to the room

Woe to the white picket fence,

Woe to the chintz

And to the pretence,

Woe to the death that it marks

Death by degrees,

Died in the dark

While outside is all sweetness and light,

The tomb dressed for Sunday,

In the brightest of white,

Time to get clean from within,

Break open the tomb,

Dig up the sin,

Pour it all out on display,

And pray for the waters to wash it away.

Her Children Shall Rise up

There was a time,
When the heart of your husband,
was glad in you,
There was a time,
When your watchful love
Was red ruby precious,

Red like the long apple peel,
That cascaded, helter-skelter,
From the knife in your hand,
Onto the tongue in my mouth,
And your smile at this stolen pleasure,
This shared moment,
Made my apish turn-up lips,
Imitate your impish ones,

Even your scraps were sweet,
Discreet,
A moment for me, alone,
And you made us all feel like that,
In the generosity of
Your selective, selfless love,


And,
Intoxicated with the intimate,
Intricate sweet-sour memories,

Your children Shall rise up,
And call you blessed

There was a time,
When you opened your arms to the needy,
When Your deeds declared,
Your heart-held hopes,
Of love for all,
The lamp of it,
Burned a deep, luminous cavern,
Seared into the hours of the night,
A hollow of light,
Within the darkened fog
Of my sunken expectations,
Your deeds raised the game,
And I praise your name,

And,
Upheld by hopeful crutches,
Inspired by your deeds,
Heavy with light touches,

Your Children Shall Rise up,
And call you blessed,


There was a time,
When, though fear could be said,
In part,
To define you,
Your frightless love,
Laughed without fear of the future,
And the summer of my youth,
Held no fear of winter,
For the faith-full sun,
Could not be diminished by,
Deepest chill, then
Nor death now,

And,
Though fear sometimes defines them,
As love  revives and faith refines them,

Your Children shall Rise up,
And call you blessed,


There was a time,
When your words of wisdom
Soared heights over head,
And, now you are dead,
I wish I could recall them,
Like loves ashes fell,
You had sashes to sell,
But I would not buy them,
I could have been like you,
Clothed in strength,
Dignified in all seasons,
Though tempest comes
And drought depletes,
Energetic and strong,

We rise in the streets
And call you blessed

Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last,
But a woman who fears the Lord ,
Will be greatly praised,

And so we rise up,
And call you blessed.



(Proverbs 31:10-31)

The uninhabitable planet and the loneliest Astronaut

Planet, you are not so beautiful,
Not such a hospitable environment,
That I may acclimatise,
No green valleys, lush with twisting conversation,
Swathes of ice cold charm,
Vapours of vanity,
Wisps of interest,

Your terrain is foreboding,
Often cruel,

And yet there is Lichen,
There is Algae,
There are microbes of humanity.

There are peaks to climb,
Crevices in which to delve,
Succulent textures of foreign flesh,
There are boulders that may be touched,
Held,
felt.


From here in outer-space,
To this wondering satellite,
It looks
To me
Like Life.
And it is alien to me.


And passing by at warp speed,
On a course across the stars,
To nowhere in particular,
To lonely, drunken bars,

Your planet generates
A strange gravity,
It is a simple matter of science,
And fact.
You exist,
And it has been so long,
Since my feet touched the ground
And like a tractor beam,
It pulls me in,

And I am in orbit,
Despite my efforts,
To regain control of my craft.

And round and round we go,
The uninhabitable planet
And the loneliest Astronaut,
Who ought to know better,
And unable to disembark,
Or disengage,
I will orbit you
And planets like you,
Forever.

Bom, bom, bom,
A satellite of Love

A Weird Place

I'm in a weird place right now
I have been here for quite a while
I'm in a weird place, somehow
A vacant stare with a vacant smile,

I'm in a weird place right now
I will be here some time
'Till all the power goes down
And the clocks forget to chime,

I'm in a weird place right now,
Give me a little time to sow this
Word-Seed into your mind,
I will be here until further notice,

I'm in a weird place right now,
Tell all friends and imaginary lovers,
That I'm away on fairy business,
When, really, I can't pull back the covers,

I'm in a weird place right now,
Where all is posture and pretence,
Where world war three's upon us,
And we can't see beyond our fence,

I'm in a weird place right now,
Where everything's disconnected,
I have more friends than I've ever had
But I've never felt so rejected,

I'm in a weird place right now,
I'm stuck here, in the dark,
I'm drowning in the flood,
Contained within the Ark,

I'm in a weird place right now,
A place of resurrection,
A place where conformity,
Equals insurrection.

I'm in a weird place right now,
I'm not sure you can reach me,
I'm stuck inside a wail,
That seems to want to beach me,

I'm in a weird place right now,
Please don't leave me stranded
I keep on trying to rise,
Don't say 'the eagle's landed',

I'm in a weird place right now,
'Broad sword to Dannyboy'
I'm going where Eagles dare,
Wish me 'luck' and wish me joy,

I'm in a weird place right now,
A place of signs and wanders,
I wander off the page...

In vain

You're vain in vain,
You have vanity in your veins,
You're so vain, it's insane,
in vanity insanity reigns,
You're vanity is interplanetary,
So I would go to many pains,
To define your vanity,
But sadly it's so vast ,
that my efforts are in vain,

Your vanity lacks humanity,
It occupies your brain,
You stand out in the street,
Looking for your reflection in each drop of rain,
you're so vain that you would follow each trickle,
Till it runs down the drain,
Like I said before,
Your vanity is insane.

In the main, it's a shame,
How vain you are is a pain,
But when I think of how small you are,
Mostly, it's in vain.

You'll hardly be remembered,
You'll never find your fame,
Amongst the billions who live now,
And the billions before who came,
In a universe expanding
In this multiverse, arcane
To think that this revolves around you,
Matthew Joseph,
It's insane.

The streets of Jerusalem

Hosannas now
Crucify then
the crowd will chant
in streets when
The king proceeds...
in front of them
on the streets
of Jerusalem

 And Palms will fall
like tears soon will
and wills will break
and blood will spill
and the face will fall
that made all of them
down in the dust, of the streets
of Jerusalem


Lauded now,
but bloodied then,
amidst the cheers
and jeers of men
the donkey now
will carry him
but he will carry
the cross and them
and drag the heavy weight of sin
out through the streets
of Jerusalem
And make a spectacle of sin
On the streets
Of Jerusalem


Hosanna to
The king on high
Hosanna to the heir
Of David's line
He's come to rule,
He's come to die
He's come to lay down
His life for them
Down on the streets
of Jerusalem
 

Signpost for the lost and found

And there it was
For all to see
The glory of
Your majesty,
The cross of wood
There in the ground
The signpost for
The lost and found,

Lifted high
For all to see
Your power
 And humility,
We look on you
In all your pain,
To live is Christ,
To die is gain,

Lifted up
For a little while,
The bearer of
All that's vile,
We look upon
Our sin and live
Humbled by
The life you give

Laid real low,
For a shorter time,
Dulled back then,
But now you shine,
You suffered then,
You drank the cup
But now you're high
And lifted up,

And here it is
For all to see
The glory of
Your majesty,
The empty cross
There in the ground
The signpost for
The lost and found,

The Mother of memories

It is Mothers day tomorrow, and that is usually a bit of a kick in the teeth.

You see, as many of my readers are well aware, my mother died back in 2005. That was hard to deal with. really hard. She was 56 and I was 32.

 I never took for granted that my mother would have an especially long life but I didn't see that coming. It was 3 months from her diagnosis (of Primary Liver cancer) to her death. Life went on (I had a two year old son), and shortly after my mother's death our second child was conceived. But though life went on, so did the grief, in an unfolding revelation of its depths. Once the initial shock wore off (and with it a strange kind of euphoria..no, really!) it seemed to snowball for about 2 years.

Sometimes it would hit me so hard out of the blue that I would collapse on my knees howling in anguish. The severing of that tie was (and to a lesser extent still is) the most powerful emotion I have ever undergone. To the extent that the arrival of an offspring cannot hold a candle to its rawness.

But even then, Mothers day was not especially hard. You see, what did the grief of no Mum on mothers day (or Christmas, or birthdays) really add? Not an iota. Every day was filled with grief and loss. It was neither worse, nor better. It was just another day without her.

And then My wife ended our 15 year relationship. We have been separated for 5 years now. Initially (in the first year) I don't think mothers day wasn't even acknowledged. But in all the subsequent years, after it dawned on me that I would have to buy her presents and cards on behalf of the kids, it bought into my life a rather darker experience of that day. To say I resented it would be a bit of an understatement.

It didn't help that I felt like the victim in our split. Of course, like the good Christian I am (hah) I had forgiven her.....but the day in question let me know just how superficial that was.

I bore it, I think, rather gracefully. I could not, after all, deny my kids their enjoyment. And, I reasoned, she wasn't a bad mother (little matter of our divorce aside). But I couldn't celebrate it myself. Often I found myself at home, alone, my mother dead and and my wife, an ex. Women seem to leave. That is how it is, for me.

And in time, as predicted by so many my grief began to abate, both for my Mother and my marriage.

This is the first year, that I have wanted to actively celebrate Mothers day. God has been doing some deep work in me, in addressing my bitterness and the regret that consumed me. He is freeing me from a whole lot of that stuff and I want to love again. I do not mean romance, I mean love. So this year when I bought my ex her gift and card, although there is no real change to the gift, there has been a change in the giving. A resentment free gift to the fantastic mother of my children. Although she doesn't know it, the lack of resentment is the bigger gift, and it will go on giving all year, not just on mothers day.

And love is the way of keeping my Mother alive.

You see, as time passes and the pain lessens, so do the memories. The week after she died, I could have described those last 3 months to you in detail. I could have told you the clothes that they buried her in. But no longer. The more distance between us increases, the more my memories hang on moments, polarised moments, and I realise that I am losing her all the time. I can no longer recall so much detail. And the detail seems all the more precious for its elusiveness. Time is taking her.

But then I remember those moments and there are reasons why they have lasted. They are moments that contain the essence of her. And the essence will not fade easily, it's fragrance soaking in to the fabric of my soul. She taught me throughout a lifetime, however short, who she was and what she believed in.

And my Mum was a perpetual student. She never stopped learning. It amazed me, how she transformed as she aged. Like a flower unfolding to the seasons sun. She was on a journey with God and she trusted him implicitly.

I think maybe because she had some terrible experiences of the abuse of her trust it caused her to trust her Heavenly Father so much more. She seemed to me, often naïve. She was so absolute, at times, that it rocked my cynicism. For her 'God said it and that settled it'. To my shame, in my crueller moments I almost mocked her for it, in my head.

But now, as I continue on my own journey through pain, I see that her simple trust in the goodness of God, and the command to live a life of love, is the most valuable lesson of all.

And, like the parable of the unforgiving servant, I find that who has been forgiven much, loves much. And if you Love much, it deepens your own experience of love. I have finally started to learn that lesson.

I know Mothers day is hard for some of us but, I urge you, celebrate the good, not because of what your experience is but because it seems to make good things flourish. When we withhold our love it seems to kill everything good. When we water liberally what is good, or what should be good with love and respect, they spring  into life around us.

Mothering is all about nurturing. We can learn an awful lot from that. Put bitterness aside and be the change you want to see.

Containment

This is us
within these sheets
within these four walls
contained within this moment 

Carrying dust angels,
ascending and descending the ladder,
shafts of sunlight search through
the gaps in the curtains
the cracks in our containment,
like a searchlight
seeking escaped prisoners
the outside breaking in
we are free in our confinement
still, on the run, in each others arms
and running out of time.

The content of our containment
is content,
Meant for now,
meant for moments like these
what is contained
within the sheets
of memory and time

naivety and sex and a tainted kind of innocence
pleasure
acceptance
retreat,
simple joy,
in your arms,

she smiles and
 the tiny golden hairs on her arms
seem to catch the light of it
and they shimmer in sun

What do the searchlights say
what do the outskirts of time demand
as they hammer, unheard,
on the walls of our basement box

that our lives are beckoning us back
that the unfulfilled longings wont long by themselves
that our separation seeks us
that this is a contained moment
and the shell of it will shatter,

they say;

'bring us your children'

and we duly obey


but that is for then
and then is for now
 I keep you contained
in the memory of the moment

we two were once one
withdrawn from life
and on the run
content to be
and bathed in sun

and I think,
that I wish
the Buddha was right,
that enlightenment perhaps is
the absence of desire,

but we are unwise
and we need the fire

Turn the page

Whatever you did 5 minutes ago,
That so filled your heart with shame and rage,
Beneath the blood it is forgotten,
That was another age,
Forgive yourself and,
Turn the page.

Every day was written in,
Before one of them came to be your cage,
But in the book of life and grace,
The script's as blank as an empty stage,
Learn your lines and improvise,
Play your part and,
Turn the page.

Whatever the  grave clothes you wear,
From your former deathly wage,
The plot line demands that you take them off,
Be you sinner, saint or sage,
Shed regret and pain and naked to new life,
Come forth and take the stage,
The old you has been written out, so,
Turn the page.

Deep Hearts

The deep in you calls to the deep in me,
all your breaking waves,
broke over me,

beneath the surface,
of the surf
lies the force,
that formed the wave,
that shaped this earth,

Don't scratch my skin.
Don't scrape the dirt.
Dig down god-deep,
to the well of hurt.

The seed you planted,
deep in my dreams,
that runs through my soul,
through muffled screams,

calls to the deep in you,
to the hidden depths,
beneath your words,
beyond regrets.

Beyond the stars.
Beyond understanding.
Beyond my need.
Way past my demanding,

a home for the heart,
all that I am, and am to be,
cries out to you,
longs to see,
Love, Justice,
Creation, Mercy.

The deep in you calls to the deep in me,
all your breaking waves,
broke over me.

Still waters run deep,
wake the desires beneath,
that slip into sleep.
Stir the sleeper into stirring.
Summon the deep,

the deep in me,
all you made me to be,
calls out to you,
as you call out to me.
Summon Leviathan ,
from the depths of the sea;
Awaken love.
Awaken thirst.
Awaken me.
Do your worst.

Naked flowers

I burned our naked photo's tonight,
Petals of the flame curling into the dark,
Five years of hanging on,
Surrendered to the match heads spark,

Our love's young bloom, before my eyes,
Becomes a shriveled up and blackened rose,
As the celluloid curls up like toes,
Layer upon layers,
Rose upon rows,
As the ashen pollens rise,
An undecided light, blossom-flickers across my nose,

Bouquets of potent chemicals,
Dangerous if inhaled too long,
Seem to fill up this open air,
Cloying, reaches into my lungs,
But I am not intoxicated by its fumes,
Immune, I gaze into the blooms,

Our nakedness and shame,
Covered finally by some carbon blanket,
Like in another life-light,
Petal-adorned bed clothes,
Set for a banquet,
Sex and death and flame
Burned up like innocence,
Burned up by pain and blame,

And when the flames have done their work,
The darkness came, to reclaim,
Among the scattered ashes, a thousand tiny poppy seeds of light,
Like the lights of a distant, distant city,
Crackle persistently in residue of shame,

And inevitably they too will die,
Giving seed only to these futile words,
Until I stir the Ash laid flower bed,
And again, in their turn they burst,
Into more cities and colonies of even smaller seeds,
Until lines between dark and light,
Seem almost blurred.

I lay these Nude and firey flowers,
On the ashen grave of our loves hours,
And prayers ascending, like hot ash into the night,
I release my heart,
I release the light.

It's the things I can do now (that remind me of what I cant)

Since you have gone;

I can leave my plate of food, temporarily on the floor,
If I go to the kitchen, I can leave open the door,
I can step confidently and barefoot across my room,
In the dark,
(Canine incontinence is such a lark)

But I can never hear you bark,

I can leave my mattress where it lies on the floor,
(Never worrying about what urine may pour),
I can stay out at night until quarter to four,
I can spin around suddenly without treading on your paw,

But I cannot reverse the law,
Of death and grief,
Even though it thaws,
I can never trim your claws,
Or look on you lying,
In the place that is yours,

I can go out all day, I can stay over night,
I can leave early, winter mornings,
Without leaving on the light,
Leave the door open wide,
Without you taking flight,
I can leave food lower,
Than your heads height,

But I can never leave you, when I go out at night,
And I can never return to the welcoming sight,
Of you.

I can never leave you again.


(For Lilly)

Lost ground

Lost and found,
I lost my ground,
I heard a sound,
And hit the town,

I paint it red,
I want it dead,
Now I lay me down to bed,
And block out the noise I've come to dread,

The noise of unrequited dreams,
The silence that will haunt my screams,

A Poem A Day

Here, take one of these,
Once a day, every day of the week,
Till you fall to your knees,
Type away typos,
Till you loosen your keys,
Click save when your halfway done,
So its easy to breathe,
Soul into memory,
With an apparent ease,
A poetry pill, to swallow,
If you do, or don't please.

A poem a day,
keeps the dullness at bay.

A writer who's triter,
 A Poet who's slow, its,
harder to look,
At the titles/recitals contained in a book.
I look at 'My boys' on the shelf,
Herbet and all the poets call out,
Physician, Heal thyself.

one in the morning

its one in the morning
and half way to dawning,
I'd write something pretty,
But I'm afraid you'd be scorning,
Or at the very least yawning,

It's one in the morning.
Halfway to dawning,
I should be sleeping,
But melancholy is spawning,

It's one in the morning,
Halfway to dawning,
I remember your wedding clothes,
As you stood in the awning,

It's one in the morning,
I have finally stopped fawning,
the realisation has come,
that true love ain't sworn in
Though we lie together, we'll never be one,
In the morning.