New Born Blues

 

One day, I said, to the Lord,

A whispered prayer, over my shoulder,

One day I will know.

One day you will show me,

What it is in me,

That resonates so deeply

With the melancholic tone in this song,

To the extent that I told my Sister, 

To ensure that amongst all the hymns I'd selected,

She play it at my funeral,

Because this song, I said, is me.

If you could sum up my soul in music,

This would be it.

"With light in my head

And you in my arms"*


And instantly the whisper returned

My ear tingled

The neck hairs bristled

It is longing.

It is yearning.


And in my ignorance, I asked myself,

Like I would know,

If that wasn't contradicting the nature of my rebirth,

This inner being effused with His spirit,

That I should characterise myself solely with this one bittersweet emotion.

I am Longing.

I am yearning.

But my yearning is for home

For that fine and fateful day

And the new birth should not put me off,

For every baby

Is born screaming

For a comfort they can't yet comprehend.

They have needs they have no knowledge of,

And they feel the need still,

The melancholy speaks of hope

Like pain speaks of healing

And what was begun,

Will one day end.

And the crying will fall silent,

And I will suckle at the teat of eternity

"For I Know I will be loosened

From bonds that hold me fast

That the chains all hung around me

Will fall away at last"*

* Fisherman's Blues- The Waterboys

Surrender

I surrender to you

Like I was bound to do

Not with hands held high

Nor did I 

Abdicate my throne of emotions:

It's courts abandoned,

There are no white flags,

No terms or treaties,

I surrender

Not in willingness

Nor because resistance is worn away

(By the lapping tide of perpetual love)

I have not come to the end of my resource to fight you off,

But I surrender

As a falling man

Surrenders to the concrete below

As the flaming building he has left

Smolders,

He plunges for

Propelled towards

Terror which is firmer

Than the collapsing ruin that previously supported,

Even though

He started the fire.

I surrender to the approaching ground

And the mercy of God.

The channels

I find the cool channels

between buildings 

where the wind finds flow, 

This breeze block, asphalt, concrete complex,

Where the radiance of the sun

is battery farmed.

Where humidity is increased in one room,

And conditioned into ice-dry climate in another,

And i walk unseen among the scientists,

clustered in their honey burrows,

I'm dripping sweat on their sterile floors

Dragging plastic through their corridors 

wearing their lab coats

but the dark ring of perspiration

is around my colar

And I cannot be with them,

So

I seek the channels

between the buildings

where the monster casts its shadow

And sucks the cool air through

I Commit My Soul To Paper

I commit my soul to paper,

Put my heart in the ink,

Place my consciousness on the page,

Commit what is spiritual,

To what is matter,

What I hope is eternal,

To what may age,

And crumble, brown and flake,

 

Fade out of vision,

Bleeding from the veins of the temporal,

Seeping through the Vail,

Back to its home in heaven,

Where it is preserved,

By Angels,

Preserved in my tears,

In jars and bottles,

Corked with the wood of the cross.

These Ways (Colossians 3)

You used to walk in these ways

In the life you once lived

But you are newer these days

So don't do what you did

Don't take up your sword

Don't lift up the lid

Don't hide in the dark

Don't keep it all hid

Don't scrabble around

Doing tricks in the dirt

Don't be batting that eye

Don't flatter that flirt

Don't unzip that fly

Don't unbutton your shirt

For some harmless fun

Someone's gonna get hurt

You once used to walk in these ways

In the life you once lived

But you are newer these days

We're standing still

With our idle fingers drumming,

We're flirting with temptation

But the Devil is more cunning

We're hanging around

But we should be running

Because of these

The wrath of God is coming,

What's of the earthly nature put to death 

Allow it no quarter

Leave it no breath

You once used to walk in these ways

In anger and slander and murderous rage

In malice and lust and in greed

Idolatry before incorruptible seed,

In sex and impurity lighting the fires,

And filthy language from mouths of liars,

And pouring fuel so the flames got higher,

Were we not told to flee youth's evil desires?

You once used to walk in these ways

In the live you once lived

But now you flee these days

Leaving naked, with the coat in her hand,

If you stand naked

Then naked you are

but at least you stand,

Since you have taken off the old self with it's deeds

And put on the new self, with a new set of needs

All met in the knowledge of one who is greater

Renewed in knowledge in the image of the creator

Here there's no Gentile or Jew

Here we're all one, all made new

No barbarian, Scythian, slave or free,

But Christ is all, is in all, in you and me,

As God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved,

Clothe yourselves with the compassion of heaven above,

And kindness to all, and sweet humility

Gentleness and patience, yes, put on these,

But above all virtues, such as these,

Put on love

Which binds them in perfect unity,

And no longer walk in those ways,

That was the old life you lived

But you're newer these days

Since you have been raised with Christ

Set your hearts on things above,

Where Christ is,

Seated at the right hand of God

Your life is hidden in him

Like his blood has covered your sin,

When Chronos' end is finally here,

With him, who is your life, you will appear,

In glory

The Cushion of The Years (Shield against Apollyon)

 

Tonight, at 51, With the duvet pulled up to my ears,

I will play myself to sleep,

With the cassette replacement,

Of the tape my mother bought for me,

To mark, at 15, my passing into a sort of infant maturity,

A bud that does not resemble but contain,

The bloom of tomorrow,

And it's foregone conclusions,

She tucked me in with words,

And self fulfilling prophecy,

"You're old enough now, to appreciate this"

She predicted.

Tonight, at 51, I tuck myself in.

And in putting on the cassette, I pull up the covers,

The padded cushion of the years,

I pull them over my head,

I kick fast to warm the bed,

Like I'm running home,

And I am 15, 

And the Shakespearean blanket of warmth,

Covers my ears,

And forms a barrier from my thoughts of the present,

A barrier for all the years that are out there,

I am home

And she is in the other room just feet away,

As near and as far as present day,

And for some reason, Apollyon, comforts me,

With his scathing enmity:

"I am an enemy to this prince,

I hate his person, his laws, and people,

I am come out on purpose to withstand thee!

Here will I spill thy very soul!"

And for all the spat out fury of the blow-hard,

And as dangerous as he is,

It gives me resolve,

To stay beneath the shield of sheets,

The field of sleeps,

Until my fears dissolve,

And the cushion of the years is thick

And thicker the more the years go by,

And I will burrow in that bed,

And shelter from Apollyon's cry

Even a Broken Clock

Even a broken, old fashioned clock

Is correct 2 times a day,

And perhaps if I stay as I am,

You'll come, in time,

To see things my way,

If time is the variable,

And not the nailed down, sealed in truth,

Then the fixed hands of opinion, 

Though opinions rotate,

Will point to the proof,

And if truth is the variable

Then what good is it to me,

If I require the eternal energy

To keep up, constantly,

No, The truth, this truth is my truth

And the time is on the shelve 

And what ever time it is, the truth is,

It's always 1 minute to twelve.