See King Him

In the beginning,
The word was light,
Beyond the darkness,
beyond sight,
And that light
was the light
of the life of men,
And we best behold it
and start living then,
In all it's fullness
He is life,
Why is it then,
We feel such strife?

He came to his own,
But we beheld him, not,
And turned away,
and turned it off,
the voice that said,
we should seek him,
but we turned our hands,
to shallow things,
that did not hold
the depth of love
that could not fill,
The volume of,

All his fullness,

But in all we do,
we're seeking him,
though we know it not,
Beneath our skin,
The yearning that comes,
when we cannot sleep,
The restlessness in
the deepest deep,
as our souls call out
to him,
To save his sheep,
We are lost,
but cannot reach,
home's safety.
and can not even call out 'save me',

When we cant find answers,
and even when we have already found it,
When we cant separate out the Love
From the religion that surrounds it

We are seeking truth,
we are seeking hope,
We are seeking life,
We are seeking love,

We are seeking him,

at the heart of it,
when deeds are done,
when all our battles ,
are lost or won,

we have been seeking him,

seeking him,

See King Him

King Jesus,

I want to see the king
soon and very soon,
I want to see the king,
Heart; prepare him room,
I want to see the king,
High and lifted up,
I want to see the child,
Born to be lifted up,

I want to see the king,
Soon and very soon,
I want to see the king
I wanna sing his tune,


The wisest of men,
Will be seeking still
Seeking for what,
The world cannot fill,
And bringing their gifts,
They worshipped him there,
The King in baby-grows,
The Son and Heir,

To see the light,
The light of life,
the full life of everything,
We should stop seeking him,
and instead,
We should see him King,

See him at the centre,
ruling everything,
see him working for the good,
of those that do love him,
see him ruling still,
through every situation,
kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall,
Nations fighting nation,
See him holding power,
when all about seems lost,
see him counting hours,
see him thawing history's frost,

until
one day,

We all shall see him king,
every one,
on bended knees,
with confessing tongues,

When the King is on the throne,
His loyal subjects,
Will feel at home,


Soon and very soon,
We are going to see the king,
Soon and very soon,
We are going to see the King,
Soon and very soon,
We are going to see the king,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
 We are going to see the king,

So See him king.

There is nothing alive in the Living room

No there is nothing alive in the living room,
No one living or dead,
The Cat is a Zombie and the goldfish a ghost,
And the family are locked in their heads.

Ok, they're kind of alive in the living room,
But for the purpose of this poem, let's pretend,
That alive means some semblance of coherent connection,
To meaning and people and friends,

We need a new name for the living room,
Like the Lounge of the living dead,
With nameless headstones, made out of our phones,
The cemetery of things left unsaid,

Lets assume for the purpose of poetry,
That this kind of silence is absence of life,
Lets assume that the Dad is counted as dead,
If he wont even look at his wife,

Lets assume that the sisters aren't breathing,
Unless they look up from their screens
Let's assume from their skin and pallid complexions,
That they might as well be turning green,

Lets assume that the worst has now happened,
Now that we don't talk any more,
We've blocked out all the moans, with candied headphones,
Just to make certain,(for sure),

They've been scrolling for hours on facebook and Insta,
But nothing of interest lay there,
Except, maybe, their plastic wife,
With her perfect life,
And 500 likes of her hair,

Let us imagine the mechanical action,
Of fingers dragging down on the screens,
Are the nails scratching at  glass coffin lids,
Of a people buried in memes.

(Does the end justify all the memes?)

Let us assume for the sake of these verses,
That the utter absence of talk,
Is taken as a lack,
Of breath coming back,
And an incapacity to get up and walk,

Let's imagine the blue light that rests on their faces,
Is the cold light of heaven above,
Let us imagine they are being summoned,
To give account for their absence of love,

Let us presume from this lack of communication,
They've already passed into the great beyond,
Perhaps Dante's inferno, (the ninth circle of hell),
Called the internet, of which they're so fond.

Now there's four people in the living room,
Four people and two family pets,
They used to talk,
And go out for walks,
Lets just hope that no one forgets...

How...

And why.

I know an old woman who swallowed a lie,

Perhaps she'll die,

Inside.

I know a few more people who are swallowing lies,

I wonder why?

No there's nothing left alive in the living room,
No one living or dead,
The blue lights flicker over lifeless faces,
And everything left unsaid,

Like Sorry,
Like I love you.
Like forgive me,

what tears are for

You say,
For love we have so much,
The language of a tender touch
For anger we have words
And voices that are heard,
For fear we have screams,
For hope we have our dreams.
For these we make impressions,
In realms of clear expression,

But when in silence it falls apart,
And there are no words, it seems,
No pleading for lost dreams,

Somethings are just beyond repair,
And that's what tears are for.

The Fine Rain

The fine rain,
Forms big drops,
Comes trickle falling,
From tall tree tops,

Assembled and collected,
By leaves on Boughs,
Poured on my head below,

As I shelter now,

I may as well face the rain.

I am taken back, on that school trip ,
To that forest place again,
When with twenty other boys, stood beneath Chestnut
Whilst the drizzle wains,

 

Water cascading,
down my neck and my nose,
Whilst it was dry outside,
And nobody knows,
But under the shelter,
It flows like a hose,

Dispensing water collected twenty minutes ago,

Perhaps this shelter has served it's purpose,
It's delayed the rain,
But still it dispersed this,

And maybe I should have faced the rain.

 

The honest to God,
Bone chilling,
Sense numbing,
Soul stirring rain.

Pride Cometh

Pride came
before the fall
first came pride
then came all
the darkness of
the night that would fall
then came flame
then came the wall

Pride came
before the tower fell
ascending to heaven
by digging in hell
and oh, look,
we're doing so well,
then burst the bubble,
then crush the shell

and all, is chaos, and confusion.

You'll be like gods,
You'll reach His height
You'll see as He see's
You'll have His sight,
You're beyond all question
You have the right
To celebrate,
What is evil,
And hidden in night,


But the morning comes,
with blinding sight,
The sun shall rise,
And flood with light

And the proud shall fall,
and rue their height,
and long,
and wait,
and hope in vain for flight,

Risen

Who is it that you're looking for,
Mary, why do you weep,
Raise your chin and face to me,
Stop staring at your feet,
The tomb lies empty,
The garden adorned, and born in dew,
The old night is cold and gone,
See what's right in front of you,

Stop this navel gazing,
Dry your needless tears,
Allow your eyes, to rise,
Above horizons,
To the Lord of all your years,

I know that you are hurting,
I know you're filled with pain,
But let the hope that once inspired you,
Fill you heart and life again,

Listen to my voice,
As I call out your name,
Remember the promises I made,
That I would rise again,

Mary, Why are you weeping,
Mary, Who do you look for,
Open the door of your eyes, and rise,
I am standing before,

You don't have a fear,
You don't have a need,
That is not cast away,
That is not met in me,

Some people are scared of shadows,
Some people are scared of light,
But greatest joy comes in the morning,
After the darkest, blackest night,

People searching in dark corners,
For the purpose that they need,
For the love that should define them,
When all the time it's found in me,

People seeking out their healing,
By crawling on broken glass,
If only they'd open their eyes,
Drop their pride and ask,

Looking for a purpose, looking for a goal,
Reaching out for something to fill the God shaped hole,
Reaching out for peace and they're crying out for love,
But they're searching in the mud instead of looking above,
You'll never find your freedom, while locked inside your head,
Let me ask you a question,
Why search for the living among the dead?

And these dead things that you look to,
To fill your aching need,
Do they still the aching longing,
Tell me, do they stem the bleed?
Do they promise to release you,
But then lock you in the grave,
Do they promise to rescue you,
But fail to save?

Ands what is it that you want?
That thing you can't define?
Open your eyes and rise,
Let the light in and shine,

This morning of resurrection,
The dawn of all your hope,
That changes your horizon,
That widens your scope,

Death is just the beginning,
That leads to life that's new,
So die to self,
And rise,
To the hope inside of you,

Tell me why are you weeping?
Who is it you look for?
The one who holds the keys,
And stands knocking at your door,

This resurrection comeback King,
The one who died but lives,
Who fills your life with mercy,
And the power that he gives,

Don't look in dead religion,
Don't look from east to west,
Don't look in lifeless loving,
Don't bother with the rest,

Mary, stop your crying,
Simply open up your eyes,
I am standing right before you,
I told you, I would rise,

We Who Put No Confidence In Flesh

We who put no confidence in flesh,
We who like to keep it fresh,
(The aroma of Christ, or the smell of death)
Place no faith, in our own success,

Our righteous rags,
Our Sunday best,
Our best of offerings;

A steaming mess.

We who put no confidence in flesh,
We shall trust in nothing less,
Than the blood of Christ,
His righteousness,

He and he alone shall bless,
Those of his to pass the test,
With scores so poor it should be stressed,
His blood makes up for the rest,

That blood can make the foulest clean,
That blood availed for you and me.

I bring nothing to this table,
My hands are tied, I was not able,
I was shaking, never stable,
My 'goodness' was merely a children's fable,
A humanist tale to make me play ball
An empty wallet with which to pay bail.

Jesus, my goodness had me rot in jail,
But your blood could never, ever fail.
To set me free;
The blood avails.

We who put no confidence in flesh
Lest we get puffed up,
Lest we forget,
We do nothing on our own,
But looking up at Jesus' Throne
Receive his Spirit, we are not alone,
We camp on earth, but heaven's home,

We who put no confidence in the flesh,
Wear righteous robes, cant be undressed,
I did not earn it and I cannot lose it,
He chose me, I did not choose it,
To come to him, to be changed,
He did it all, he rearranged,
This heart of mine,
He broke the chains.
Cleaned me up,
Removed the stains.

We who put no confidence in flesh,
Don't measure ourselves by our own success,
But by Christ's finished work, we confess,
It is done, completed, finito, I am blessed.
I need not work to pass the test,
We need not work,
Only rest.