Sweat Like Tears

 

Hands and knees,

Down in the earth and mulch,

The roots of weeds weave,

They duck and burrow and break off,

To live and fight another day,

But the rich soil of the Kingdom,

Is worth working for,

And sweat forms on my brow,

And wearying I bow my head

And the drops run freely now,

And one in particular, leaps somehow,

Over the ridge of my eyebrow,

It hits my highest point of cheek,

Cascading down towards my mouth,

It feels like a tear,

A tear that comes from a deeper  and less emotional place than the ones from my eye,

This too, is a kind of cry,

And I,

Am digging,

Am weeding,

Am sowing in sweat and tears,

And knowing I've been sowing in the wrong kind of tears,

For years,

And years,

And years,

Maybe this kind,

Will bring that morning joy,

I'm fighting for my land now,

And the dirt is beneath my nails

Resurrection days

Every time I fall
Every time I fail
Every time I find myself
Chasing my own tail

And I hear your voice
Calling me back to life

That's a resurrection

Every time I let you down
Every time I sin
Every time I sell you out
To be saving my own skin

And I hear your gentle voice
Call me back to life,
Call me back to faithfulness

That's a resurrection

Every time I'm deserted
Each time  I'm betrayed
Whenever I am let down too
And I've got down on my knees
And prayed

And heard your loving voice
Call me to forgiveness

That too is a resurrection

And at the end of every road
That's led to a dead end
I've found the strength to turn around
And start all over again

Well that's a resurrection,

Each time I turn to Jesus
A kind of resurrection,

A resurrection
A new-life connection
A grave rejection
A forward projection
An insurance, a protection
A dark-to-light defection

Switched sides,
from dead to alive

Resurrection
Sown into the DNA of earth
In the shadow of every death
The dawn of a new birth

Each night we sleep, as dead
In the morning we arise
And the sun appears to rise
From the ground up to the skies

All around us
Resurrection

From the death of a single grain
Comes a harvest you cant contain

With Christ we're never dead and buried
When all is lost there still is hope
When down and out, we're never worried
There is always resurrection scope

We worship a living, risen saviour
His name is Jesus Christ
Victor over death and hell
And he holds the keys to life

Internal reading

When words are things I cannot feel or see,

And "I cannot read inside of me",

Or begin to describe the message my feelings send,
"I push my lungs up and pretend,

I pretend to be fire at them."

 

 

I Asked My Love

I asked my love

What things define me
Three things she replied

A poem
A cross
A mess

Disgust Discussed

I look back now
At my 23 year old self
A roll of fat
Pinched
Less than an inch
Between my finger and thumb
Unclothed down to my bony bum
Naked before a Barcelona hotel mirror

And for the first time
Began to feel a distant sense of disgust
The slightest swell,
All is not well

And he disgusts me.

He disgusts me
Not for his paunch
But for the launch
On a projected trajectory
A tragic story
The magic inglory
Inglorious in ignorance
Ignorant in innocence

That his first step down the staircase
Will lead to the step that stumbles
Tumbles
Into a face-plant
Landing in the cellar
Of Disgust

That the truly disgusting thing
Is the presence of disgust itself.

If you had known
What that was
Or where it would take you
You'd have been grateful.

Kingdom Principles In a Post Service Coffee Apocalypse

The Last Shall be First:

Unless I see him first
And let him jump in the cue in front of me,

Just to teach him a lesson,

(And maybe steal the real blessing)

And the First shall be Last:

Though his thirst shall not last in the temporal,

Though his lips are wet,

And his cup is full,

Though his custard cream crumbles,

And his belly no longer rumbles

He has received his reward,

And answers to the Lord,

That is, oh wait, unless....

He has found a way to invert humility,

And really he seeks to bless,

By going first and taking for himself the last place,

I bet that's it,

He's using grace,

He takes the biscuit,

And wins the race,

Or perhaps I am overthinking this,

In this post service coffee apocalypse,

Please Don't Love Me

 Please don't love me,

Like I am,

'Cos what you have to understand,

That what I am,

Is not me,

Save your love,

For me.