The Creed

I believe in God the Father Almighty,
The one who made the heavens, the stars and the earth,
The one who spoke his light into the darkness,
The one who made life by his breath and his word,
The one who bought all things into existence,
Who watches over Sparrows and clothes the flowers of the field,
I believe in the one who sustains the tiny and the mighty,
I'm down on my knees,
My spirit yields.

I believe.

Yeah I believe in his love, his power and his glory,
I'm pursuing the pursuer, counting up the cost of his Kingdom's worth,
I believe in God, the father, Almighty,
I believe in the Creator of heaven and earth,
And I believe in Jesus Christ his only Son, Our Lord,
Come to us by Virgin birth,

Who being in very nature God,
Did not see it as something to be grasped,
He took on flesh, the very nature of a servant,
Serving our needs before we'd even asked

Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
God in very nature, and yet very God and very man,
Born in a humble stable to The Virgin Mary,
Born to do for us what we never can,

For my sins and yours, he Suffered under Pontius Pilate,
For my sin he was strung up and hung up, He was crucified,
The perfect sacrifice for Sin, it's all atoned for,
For this he came and he bled and he died,

I believe.

I believe.
He descended down to the dead,
His lifeless body laid in a rich man's tomb,
On the third day
The stone was rolled away,
He rose again,
Death could not defeat the one who sprang from the virgins womb,

I believe.

I believe;

He is seated at the right hand of the Father,
He took his place at his side, his work finished, he sat down,
He bears the name every tongue will confess,
Every knee shall bow before this throne and pay homage to this crown,

He will come again to judge the living and the dead,
Not in a stable but in the clouds, every eye will see.
Even those that pierced him, will look upon him,
Not humbled, not forsaken but glorified, as he shall ever be,

I believe in the Holy Spirit,
The comforter, the enabler, the one just like Jesus,
My Guide and my friend,
I believe in his gifts and his work in my salvation,
A deposit in us guaranteeing that we are his belonging,
And will be, forever without end,

I believe in The Holy catholic Church,
The universal communion of saints, The lovers bride,
I believe in the forgiveness of sins, I believe in sin dealt with, paid for,
Not merely set aside.

I believe.

I believe these truth's are self evident, and eternal,
I believe these eternal truths are universal,
But more than that I believe the one who makes the universal personal,
I believe this is the play, not the rehearsal.

He came for me.

And now I believe in the resurrection of the body,
That if I should die, this won't be the end,
because I believe in life everlasting,
Life, love and glory forever,
and ever, and ever,
and
Amen

Precipice

I'm on the precipice,
Of all of this,
Lust and love,
And longing wish
Is,
Calling me to this
Abyss,

To dive,
And dine and die,
To fall with grace,
If not to fly,

And I don't want to ask why,
Or why not,
I want to see this,
See what it's got,
In store,
But what's more,
How far down is the floor,
 

I emerged,
From thickest bush,
Beset, clawing and straining for the open space between the branch,
Beyond my sight,
Into this,
This precipice,
And now I don't know,
What I wish.
 

I'm just going to stand here for a while.

Nirvana Carol verse #1 (Come as You are)

He came as a man,

As a friend,
As he wanted us to be
Took on flesh, served us all
In all humility

 

Late in time, behold him, come,
The choice is yours, don't be late,
Take him in,
He'll fill your soul,

 

Eternally, Eternally,
Eternally, Eternally

 

Come as you are, doused in mud,
As He knows you to be
You can mend, all your sin
As an old,

 

Memoria, memoria
Memoria, memoria

 

And I swear that we don't have a hope
No I don't have a hope
No I don't have a hope

,

Without Jesus, Without Jesus
Without Jesus, without Jesus,

So come, as you are, at Christmas time,

Like he came,

In all humility,

Lay it down, Bring your gift,

Bring yourself
To the foot of the tree

The Bells of Bartella

I heard hope today,
Returning to the land,
The hope thrown to the wind,
And scattered in the sand,

The blood that drained,
And soaked away there,
That bought with it death,
And the silence of despair,

And the silence of the voices,
Of those who lived in fear,
The silence of the western world,
Where no one wants to hear,

The justice that was silenced,
By the bark of Kalashnikov
And the silence of the voices,
Calling off the dogs,

The cries for help that never came,
Smothered by the bombs,
Mothers cries for Children,
Children's cries for Mums,

The silence of indifference,
Where was God, where was his love?
And where was the sound of hope,
Calling from above,

The desert now was waiting,
Ravaged by the winds of war,
And howling shrills of violence,
For the sounds from long before,

For the sound from all creation,
Calling all things well,
Calling out new life,
The peal of the bell,

Clear, and strong, and defiant,
The bell calls into the wind,
And the wilderness is surrendering,
It's children up again,

I heard the sound of hope today,
Ringing as a bell,
Summoning hope from death,
And calling us back from hell,

Like the silence never really came,
For the hope never died, nor lost it's smile,
Only the gaps between the claps,
Got longer for a while.


I heard hope today,
Returning to the land,
Hope that had been thrown to the wind,
And scattered in the sand,
Now returning to the hand.

Bored with the King (of Israel)

Well I might get bored with all the presents,
And bored with Santa Clause,
Bored with Christmas turkey,
And the gifts strewn on the floor,

 

Bored with saving up
And bored with being broke,
Bored with being nice to relatives,
With whom this year you barely spoke,

 

I may get bored with all the tinsel,
The trappings and pretence,
Bored with keeping peace,
Bored with making sense,

 

Bored with the Queens speeches,
Bored with the aftermath,
Bored with being pleasant
To those who should feel my wrath,

 

Bored with Christmas carols,
Bored with TV repeats,
Bored with over eating,
I want to run out in the streets,

 

Shouting what's this got to do with Christmas,
What's this got to do with the Son,
Of God who came to do the dirty deed,
And get salvation done?

 

What has this got to do with him,
Who came to uplift the poor,
That we're maxing out our credit cards,
Out shopping from store to store?

 

What has this got to do with Jesus,
Christ, I can't see how,
We neglect the lonely,
In the name of family right now!

 

What has this to do with him,
Who died for being real?
And tied him into cocacola clause,
And the elves and the whole deal?

 

What has this indulgence,
Got to do with the King
Dying on a cross,
To deliver us from sin?

 

I can be bored with Christmas,
I can be bored,  as bored as hell,
But I will never be bored with the King,
Of Israel.

 

No Hell, No Hell, No Hell,  No Hell,
Not Bored with the king of Israel.

Chelsea Hotel #2

"Chelsea Hotel #2"

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.
Ah but you got away, didn't you babe,
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don't need you,
I need you, I don't need you
and all of that jiving around.

I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
you were famous, your heart was a legend.
You told me again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception.
And clenching your fist for the ones like us
who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,
you fixed yourself, you said, "Well never mind,
we are ugly but we have the music."

And then you got away, didn't you babe...

I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best,
I can't keep track of each fallen robin.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
that's all, I don't even think of you that often.

Suzanne (By Leonard Cohen)

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by, you can spend the night forever
And you know that she's half-crazy but that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her that you have no love to give her
Then he gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer that you've always been her lover

 

And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind

 

And Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain only drowning men could see him
He said all men will be sailors then until the sea shall free them

But he himself was broken, long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human, he sank beneath your wisdom like a stone

 

And you want to travel with him, and you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with her mind

 

Now, Suzanne takes your hand and she leads you to the river
She's wearing rags and feathers from Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey on our lady of the harbor
And she shows you where to look among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed, there are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love and they will lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds her mirror

 

And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind
And you know that you can trust her
For she's touched your perfect body with her mind

 

The Leaves are Leaving

The Leaves are leaving their branches,

Like the birds,

They are heading South,

And my breath in the morning,

Hangs in the air,

As soon as it is freed from my mouth,

November spawned a monster,

If Stephen can be believed,

But all I see are Summer's ghosts,

The green ghosts of leaves on the tree,

Summer mulches upon forest carpets,

Mulches down to decompose,

Buries Spring's promise in it's deep pockets of earth,
Whilst Autumns harvest froze,

Deep decomposition from greens to yellows,
While in Winters infancy,

Then yellow to amber and orange,

Then down, to the brown of debris,

Autumn is the last of the supper,
And maundy November; the Judas kiss,
Then December to February the Saturday,
Awaiting the coming bliss,

The resurrected bliss,

Of the March of seasons,
Seasons turn and betray each other,

In some subtle act of treason,
But in harmony, this October,
I right, with rhyme and reason,

I right, the tilted skewed renewed,

That seem at odds with each other,
As summer usurps springs youth,

And hands it to it's elder brother,

Autumn in turn surrenders,
To the frosty hand of another,
And Winter lays it down to die,
And lies that it never remembered,

With its crisp and whitened cover,

And winter betrays its self,

This sleep within the earth,
Life bursts forth, from death,

Spring bringing it's new birth.

Spring turns it's back on Winter,
And procedes without a care,
And hands over it's youth to summer,
To do whatever it dare,

But summer now, is a whisper,
A haunted memory,
And I don't see Novembers monster,
But the green ghosts,

In empty trees.

Fire Poem

This is my fire poem,
When it's cold outside,
Rainin' or snowin' ,
The thought that warms,
And keeps me goin',
Is an open hearth,
With a fire glowin',

Flickering flames lick,
Whilst hot chocolate is flowin',
And only if you strain your ear,
Can you hear the wind, a blowin'
Over the crackles and roar,
Of the fire growin',
And the chatter of my Mum,
As she's sat there sewin',

Cosy and warm,
Is my Fire Poem,
But draw in near,
For the second showing,

Wild and ravenous,
Is the forest fire,
Consuming all,
Like all consuming desire,
Inevitable, unstoppable,
Hotter and higher,
Like the tide of the sea,
but fiercer, and drier,

It cuts you off and surrounds,
Like some scalding barbed wire,
Like a hellfire preacher.
In priestly attire,
Won't quit catching,
Till it's you it acquires,
Roaring it leaps from branch to branch,
Like it is building a choir,

To sing it's catching, tagging song,
Tag, you're it,
Now Poof,
You're gone.

Wild and ravenous,
Is my Poem of fire,
But even wildfire,
Can be a purifier,

It cleans out the old,
As it blazes through town,
It might bring buildings
Crumbling down,
But go out into the street,
In 'Jama's or gown,
In a couple of months,
Listen for the sound,
Of the rebuilding,
Of what is coming round,

The ashes it gives,
From ashes to rise
The hopeful phoenix,
Takes to scraping the skies.
Newness can come,
From the fire that flies,
Through the town,
And now new buildings rise,


Fire can be dangerous,
Fire can be kind,
Fire is to be,
Respected, mind.

Fire is a predator,
Fire is a friend,
Fire is a curious,
And peculiar blend.

Fire will serve you well,
If you remember it is hot, like hell,

But my favourite fire,
Is when it is rainin' or snowin'
And inside my house,
There is a fire glowin'
And there the crumpets,
 And hot chocolate's flowin'

There you are, Naomi,
A few verses for showin'
This is the end,
Of my Fire poem.

A Place Near Your Altar

Feathered down,
Bedded down,
Nestled,

Warmed up,
Fed here,
Yes, settled,

High up, here,
Safe and,
Protected,

Loved here,
Nurtured,
Accepted,

This nest is all I have asked for,
All of my yearnings and longing,
A place near your altar,
A place, beloved and belonging,

Hawk eye sight,
The searching of flight,
When all of my searching,
And all of my flights,
End with you.

You are my work, my play, my rest,
You are my destination,  my journey,
My home and my nest.

You are the home I leave in search of,
You are my longing and my longing's fulfillment,

You are my starting point.
You are my end.

Here I have made my home.
Here on this journey.

A place near your altar,
The shadow of your wing
Here I live,
Breathe ,
Sing,

I would rather have one breath here,
Than a thousand anywhere else.

My eternal home.

This Gun

This small lump of cold carbonised iron,
And all it's alloys,
Is no ally
To girls
Or boys,

 

It is no friend,
It does not employ,
Social graces,
Nor a smile of joy,

 

It's small pursed mouth,
Remains unmoved,
Whatever comes,
Or passes through,

 

It is indifferent
And cold to you,
It does not care,
Who you are,
Or what you do,

 

It does not care,
About the colour of your skin,
An excess or lack,
Of melanin,

 

It asks no questions,
Of political belief,
No distinction between,
Saint and Thief,

 

It does not discriminate,
Between two religions,
Not a jot,
No, not a smidgeon,

It's features remain blank,
If you ask it what,
You do for a living,
Give it your best shot,

 

It is not swayed,
By the arguments,
Of controls or rights,
The squeals and grunts,

 

Protest is lost,
Get a grip on it,
A gun does not,
Give a shit,

 

A gun will come
Between me and you,
It does not care,
For the why or who?

 

It doesn't care,
Who pulls the trigger
Who is smaller,
Who is bigger,

 

It doesn't mind
On which side you end,
The trigger or,
The business end,

 

This Gun is none,
No respecter of persons
No expresser of preference,
It can't know for certain,

 

This gun does not have
A sense of fun,
It feels no exhilaration,
To see you run,

 

This piece, this strap,
This moulded steel,
It is not angry,
It does not feel,

It does not empower,
Or say what to do,
It leaves those things,
Entirely up to you,

 

It cares not that,
Hot bullets of lead,
Tear through flesh,
Kill children in bed,

 

Make widows, and orphans,
And murderers the same,
It feels not pity,
It knows no shame,

 

It is unresponsive,
When four shots are fired,
Though windows, to cars,
And the driver's expired,

 

It has not noted,
That this was a routine stop,
Nor the black driver,
Or the white cop.

 

His Girlfriend begs Jesus,
But this seems one resurrection,
Too far for,
The Good Lord's attention,

 

(There will be insurrection)

 

It does not weep,
Over pools of blood,
Of Snipers fruit,
Or the Crimson flood.

 

It does not mourn,
For the five police killed there,
It doesn't hear their cries,
And it still doesn't care,

 

No we cannot blame the Guns,
We can only blame Humans,

 

This Gun is mean,
This Gun is cold,
But no meaner or colder,
Than the one that holds,
This Gun is only doing,
What it's been told,

 

No we cannot blame the guns,
We can only blame humans.

 

 

(This is not a pro gun poem in any way. My feelings are quite the opposite. I just wanted to highlight that human nature is behind the problem with guns and that the darker elements of our nature  combined with such a killing machine produces incidents like the ones that inspired this poem)

Aaron's Rod

As the bovine Hercules,
(A beast the size of which you only read of in myth),
Charged down on us like some vengeful demi-god,
Tore up the field,
And kicked it away behind itself,
In it's thunderous run,

As the church-folk quivered,
And sought the safepoint of the style,
You stood,
Towering your five foot ten,
Like a monolith,
Made monstrous in my eye's mind,
A monster to make dwarfs of your foes,

You were like Moses,
Like a deliverer,
Furious with the golden Bull-calf,
Your staff in both hands,
Your feet, like your furrowed face,
 Set,

Mud-stuck,
And with a single thrust,
With rod aloft the air was struck,
I was agasp, struck dumb,
The dumb luck beast,
Faced down,
Your Thunder,
Your frown,

That old friend and confronter of mine,
Turned defender now,
Your rod and your staff,
They comfort me,
Chastiser,
Protector,
Hero with your hands out,

Aaron's rod
Held aloft,
You cried out,
Like a snarling cowboy,
Driving the whole heavy herd with his growl,

And like the Red Sea,
The field was split in two,

The fleeing flock on one side,
The Bull-calf on the other,

And you,
The dividing line between them,

Whilst across the boundary we put feet on the safety of the promised land,
You held the bull at bay, with outstretched hand,

You whispered soothingly,
And the bewildered beast was mesmerised,

And you had done this so oft' for me,
To stand in the gap, betwixt me and the sea,

Though I saw not the danger ahead,
Though I feared not for life,
Though I felt not the dread,
You stood in the gap for me,
So often barring doorways,
You stood,
At times on your knees,

And held the tides at bays,
As then you appeared to my boyhood gaze,
And as flawed as you are, through all my days,
You stood in the gap for me,
And held bulls at bay so I could go free,

And slowly you back down the field,
Your arms still stretched out,
You retreat but not yield,

I know the style is now closer to your heel,
And the final freedom you can almost feel,
But you are backing your way down there,
The bull through the years still feels yours stare,

And I watch you proudly from behind,
Bearing this in mind,
As my radiant face with pride did shine,
The father who saved us, is mine,

When (Questions)

When the how,
Has replaced the why,
And by who,
And what for,

 

That's when,
It's time to ask questions.

 

What have we become,
Where have we come to,
How can we get back,
And to who should we turn.

The Philosopher's Stoned

The Philosopher's Stoned

The Priest is not hearing confession,
The Philosopher is now stoned,
The Government Official is corrupted,
And Bono's no-where near a phone,

The Writer is now written off,
The Actor has been upstaged,
The prompter promptly fell asleep,
The Artists brush slipped from the page,
The Doctor has phoned in sick,
The ethics committee is out to a three course lunch,
The Stock broker has gone broke,
The Police are left without a hunch,
The Forensic experts are all advising on TV,
The Psychics have all lost their second sight,
The Military advisers have blown themselves up,
The Comedians are a joke tonight,
The Devil waits for Hell,
And, at times, I fear for me as well,
And "God is in his heaven",*
Like Heaven's some kind of cell,
So I now have one remaining hope,
And one more question too,
If the Philosopher is Stoned then,
Jesus Christ:
What's wrong with you?




18.11.08 *Quote from "The Warm and the Cold" by Ted Hughes

I Am Taking Pictures (Gallery of Memories)

I am taking pictures,
Taking pictures with my eyes,
Lids for shutters,
From waking till twilight,
To sun-down from sun-rise,

I am catching memories,
Trapping them behind the nets of my lashes,
Squinting shut the trap doors,
While the rest of the world,
Disappears in flashes,

And there, within my dark room,
I am not merely fast asleep,
I am developing negatives into dreams,
Moments I cannot hold onto,
Into dreams that I can keep,


I am making little wooden frames,
Making frames in my head,
Curling browning corners held down,
Behind the glass lid of my eyes,
Keeping precious buried moments from ever being dead.

Love Fool

I'd be a fool for the mating call of May,
But for some reason May is kept at bay,
I'd be up for a foolish roll in the hay,
But May comes to see me, for hay, too soon to say,
If you see May, say for me, 'we must delay',
But tell May,
I am on my way,
Tell her I miss her flirty ways,
And I will see her in thirty days,


I'd be a fool for June,
But June can not come too soon,
Summer evening walks beneath the moon,
I'd sing to her as the fledgling June birds croon,
And maybe in her arms, we'd spoon,
I would dance my dance of love like a loon,
Amidst the hot flushes of June in bloom,
I'd be such a fool for June,
But like the seasons do, I'd change my tune,

I'd be a fool for August,
Enslaved by latent, ripened lust,
Kissing fervent in the dust,
Whoever's watching, because I simply must,
Cramming in as much romance as possible before Autumn's gust,
With passions high, it's love or bust,
Whatever it takes to keep her trust,
I'd be a love fool for August,
But that could be the heat talking, If you get the thrust,

I'd be a frozen fool for Jan,
Tell Jan, I will be her man,
I'd warm her frost bitten hand,
With hot breath and kisses, because I can,
I'd slip and slide on her icy love like the fool I am,
I would spice up the leftover Christmas ham,
I'd whisk her away to warmer climes, in a far off land,
I'd be such a fool for Jan,
I'd break her resolutions, I'd tear up My plan,
But Jan has gone, and I am not sure I can,

But for all the others, I am such an April Fool,
A shower, an idiot, a sap; a tool,
For April I will not care about looking cool,
I will lose the plot, I will break the rules,
For April I will Pine and drool,
Reclining in swim wear by the pool,
Although it's still cold and wet, well, that's just fuel,
April you make of me an imbecile and a crazy fool
Oh wont you send me back to Love school,

Bestowed

“He was led like a lamb to the slaughter,

Although he was innocent of crime,

He was cut off from the land of the living,

He paid for the guilt that was mine”*

 

They say this Jesus, Who see's us,
Who Calls us in our weakness,
Humbles us with meekness,
Rescues us from bleakness,

They say He is a Good man,
But I say he is a God man,
He came to heal the sick,
To lift up the down-trod, man,

Thirty three years,
And he did nothing wrong,
Not a sin found on or in him,
In thrity three years long,

This good man was a God man,
He did the Father's will,
The way he stood up to temptation,
Still gives me a thrill,
But he wound up bleeding,
On a tree, upon a hill,
They were baying for his blood, man,
They were spoiling for a kill,

But he had done nothing wrong, man,
He was innocent of crime,
He hung there bleeding,
For the sin that was yours and mine,

God sent him into the world, man,
Not to judge the world through him,
But to save the world,
The word became human,

If we believe in him,
We can be made right,
God wont see our darkness,
He will see his son's light,

This is the message of the cross,
This holy interchange,
We are seen as good
Through this divine exchange,

But not Jesus,
Not him,

At the cross,

Every angry thought

Every lustful deed,

Every heart distraught,

Every instance of envy and greed,

 

Every love locked out,

Every help refused,

Every child that screams in silence,

Every trust abused,

 

Every hope extinguished,

Every fragile life snuffed out,

Every voice raised in fear and hatred,

Every slander thrown about,

 

Every single deception,

Every lie that's told,

Every look the other way,

Every secret sold,

 

Every promise broken,

Every answer deflected,

Every partner waiting home,

Every heart neglected,

 

Every unforgiveness,

Every conscience hardened,

Every bitter thought,

Till the last day, from the garden
 

Every time we helped ourselves,

Every time we couldn't wait,

Every time we didn't listen,

Every time we turned too late,

 

Every time that we knew better,

Every time we took the praise,

Every time we stole his credit,

Every time we hid from his face,

 

Every sin of disobedience,

Every effort for selfish gain,

Every wound that's treated lightly,

Every glory in our shame,

 

Every hardened heart,

Every walk on by,

Every purse or wallet closed,

Every crossing to the other side,

Every addiction chased
Every substance abused,
Every wound we buried deep,
Every scar and hidden bruise,

Every gun that's toted,
Every child forced into war
Every bomb blast ripping through communities
Every one who knows (and doesn't)
why?
And what for,

Every false ideology,
Every arm that's traded,
Every fat cat sitting back on profits,
Whilst their bloodied war is waged,

Every grieving soul,
Every torture victim,
Every rape that happened,
Every thing afflicting,

Every thing and so much more,
Every evil, Every sin,
Every malevolence there was and would be,
Every justice there wasn't, but should have been,

Here, at the cross,

All of this,
Bestowed
On him.
All it's crushing weight,
Closing in on him,

And the Lord has laid on him.
The sin of us all.





*Maggi Dawn

Take me Outside (And Open My eyes)

Besieged is belittled
And belittled, we barely stand,
Dreams have run through the cracks in broken cisterns,
Seeping into desert sand,

All around us, The enemy surrounds,
We are entrenched, hard pressed on every side,
With servants eyes we squint and look on opposing armies,
No way to win, and nowhere to hide,

And reaching out for hope,
Searching from our blinded hearts,
We scarcely dare to believe,
We barely know where to start,

Open the eyes of my heart,
And hide your words of hope within,
The glorious hope we're called to,
Though you kill us we are called to serve,
We are called to win,

There are more of them that are for us,
Than there are of those,
Greater is he that is in us,
Than any who oppose,

Open the eyes of our hearts,
To see the glorious power within,
To see the hope we are called to,
In the gospel of our king,

Oh Lord, Let me see as you see,
Let me feel things as you feel,
The incomparably great power,
The resurrection Zeal,
The power you exerted
When you raised Christ from the dead,
Is alive and at work in us,
As Jesus is the head,

All things beneath his feet,
All things in him, our ours,
We can never be besieged,
When we can know his power,


Open the eyes of our hearts Lord,
Awaken hunger and thirst,
We are panting like the deer,
And the thirst is growing worse,

Summon us, speak to us,
Call from deep to deep,
To search the unsearchable riches of Christ,
Awaken us from our sleep,

Its you, oh Lord, and you alone,
It's you that can satisfy,
We are sick of broken cisterns,
We are sick of wells that dry,

There is so much more,
So, so, so much more than this,
The hope that we are called to,
Called to intimacy's sweet kiss,

Let us see what you see,
Let us feel the things you feel,
let us bow not to fear,
But before our father; kneel.

Open the eyes of my heart,
To see the mysteries profound,
Open the eyes of my heart to see,
The angel armies all around,
Open the eyes of my heart,
To see past my sense of shame.
You have thrown my sin behind your back,
And I will never be the same,


Open the eyes of my heart,
To see the hope to which I am called,
To be loved by my Father in heaven,
To behold his all in all.




and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength ²⁰ he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, ²¹ far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come. ²² And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, ²³ which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.

Reborn This Way (No Apologies)

Don't ask me to relent,
Don't ask me to apologise,
Don't ask me to hide my face,
No, I won't wear disguise,

Don't try to read between the lines,

Don't try to remove my mask,

This is my actual face,

Just in case you ask,

I don't wanna hide no more;
(Ashamed of who I am),
You may serve the public perception,

But I serve the Son of man,

I serve the risen lamb,

So I can never be ashamed,

His blood can make the foulest clean.

And his blood removed my stain,

Your God is in your gut,

And your glory is in your shame,

And I don't want that kind of glory,
I don't want that kind of fame,

The honour that I want

The honour that I seek,
Is for the one lifts the humble
And beautifies the meek,

The one who lifts the lowly,

And who regards the poor,
Who uplifts the downcast,
Glorified evermore,

You say that it's undignified,

To serve a 'creation myth',
But I say I'll become,
Even more undignified than this,

I could never be ashamed,

Of the one who died for me,
The one who bore my disgrace,
Strung up naked on that tree,

He took all my shame away,
He turned it on it's head,
My shame was killed that day,
My pride was left for dead,

He was not ashamed,
Not of me or any of the others,
He is not ashamed,
To call them his brothers,

We go to him, outside the camp,

Bearing his disgrace,
In humility we worship,
As we look towards His face,

Those who look to him are radiant,

Their faces never covered with shame,
Their lips are never slow,
To name the name above all names


The name of the one who loves,
Even though he entirely sees us,
The name of the one who bore the blame,
The Name of Our Lord Jesus,

Never covered with shame
Not ashamed of the name of him who bled at Calvary,
Not ashamed of the Son of man,

And he is not ashamed of me,

You may think that this is foolishness,

But I know who I've believed,
He is able to keep what I've entrusted,
I know I'll be received,

So don't ask me to apologise,

I don't care what men may say,
This is who I truly am, I can't help it,
I was re-born this way,

I'm not ashamed of the gospel,

Nor the one I love,
I'm not trying to please people,
But my Father above,

No I'm not ashamed of the gospel,

Because he is unashamed of me,

And it is the power of god,

To save and set us free.

Photosynthesis

If I could find a way,

To convert the energy of the light,
To the growth of my soul,

Sweet would be my production,

And fragrant would be the oxygen, I generate,

Giving life to other organisms,
Filling lungs,

Shaping lives,

 

I would stretch out my limbs in it's luminous warmth,

I would bask in it's rays,

And rise,

Lifting my extremities to the utmost,

As I sought to get nearer to the source of that energy ,
As near as was possible,

 

The light that baked within the depths,
Seedling-me, in germination,
That summoned me,
That bid me break,
First the protective husk of my shell,
And then the thawing crust,
Of the earth that held me,
That had cradled me till now,

It held me, for a while,
But it will be,
The base for launching,
A soulish assault on the skies,

I will rise,

When I crack this light conversion thing,

And learn to photosynthesise,

Symbiotic Biology

They said we'd never make it,

They said we did not go together,
But it feels like we've been co-habiting,
Co-existing now forever,

You are vegetation,

I am animation
You're fixed to your location,
I am free to roam the nation.

You are vegetable

I am animal,
I am zoological,
You are more botanical,

You have photosynthesis,

And I, blood and beating heart,

There are no similarities,

We couldn't be any more apart.

Let them deride and scoff,

Yeah, let them go berserk,
Our love may cross the boundaries,
But we can make it work,

 

You see,

What is good for you

Is good for me,
The air on your skin,
The light on your leaves,
It is sugar to you,
And oxygen to me,
It is because of you,
I live and breathe,

I stand firm on the earth,

Because you sway in the breeze,
We sing together, our melodies,
And blending into harmonies,
We are synchronised, and not ill at ease,
Mammals and reptiles and plants and trees,
Ecologically, complimentary, we seek to please,

God forbid, we should ever cease,

To look after one another,
Animal and vegetable
Sister and Brother

We survive

Because you thrive,

We thrive,

Because you survive,

And we are really not so different,

We are both slaves to air and light,
Whether or not we have eyes,
Whether or not we have sight,

And although,

I am not a plant,
If I'm quiet and close my eyes,
I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin,
And feel my levels rise,
And if I am ever so still,

I swear I can photosynthesise...