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Radiance©
Waking through the shadows
of this world,
I see faded forms,
searching for the glow.
Darkness cannot cast its shadow
unless it tries to block the light,
shining within this mortal shell.
Look near and far,
for the radiance in a few,
of our eyes.
Found In This Time
Mystery unfolded just as planned.
Prophetic riddles twisted straight
by the moving of His hand,
and many do not understand.
To grasp the meaning of the way,
one must hold onto the passages
old and new,
and let the thread renew your mind
as you let go of your former view,
and realize the mystery found in this time.
Grasping The Yarn
To touch the healing thread
as it is woven through time;
years of wasted life,
bleeding unclean in this instance.
Fearful anticipation
as I reach to grasp the yarn;
knowing the meaning of the mystery,
that is found in these lines.
Typecast
Could I be typed
outside these lines?
Hidden in the metaphor
is the meaning of an artist,
feeling like a tired cliché,
overused and misunderstood,
that everyone thinks they understand.
The image has got to be bigger
than the meaning on the surface,
but complexity is lost in ambiguity,
so many try to simplify into something,
they can comprehend.
Walk The Line©
Walk the line; the path through
the straight and narrow.
Left and right is foolishness
as the moderately wide
is on either side.
The right moves left
and the left falls over itself.
Balance on the edge
as they look on.
"Walk the line in one direction,"
whispers from behind.
The end leads to the beginning,
but the line never bends.
Fragments©
The crystal orb shattered,
as if I could save my friendships
in a fragile ball of glass.
Fragments flew across the floor,
as my sphere fell out of significance.
Fractured relationships flung asunder
sprawling across reality.
One bond can bring us back together,
melting us down and breathing into us anew.
The Creator of the crystal
can fashion beauty once again,
out of our fragments.
Bounce
Bouncing the ball,
or is it bouncing me.
Smacking the concrete
only to rebound and rise;
reacting to an action.
Slammed to that solid surface,
as if the gravity of my circumstances,
wasn’t enough.
Beneath The Purple Hills
My thoughts linger in the twilight.
The setting of my hope,
fills my life with faded forms,
and memories of violence
now cast in softer hues of violet.
I stand on the purple hills of the present,
looking over the valley of existence,
as points of light defy the darkness,
making shadows pulse with desire,
as time tingles, for tomorrow.
Moonrise©
Walking through sprawling arguments
of humanity looking for direction,
I stopped in the blurring fumes
of stalled progress, and read the writing on the wall.
Scrawling script of postmodern prose;
colorful language in hues of frustration,
trying to find an identity amidst the rambling crowd.
Here I stood and watched the peaceful moon rise
over this mass of metropolis,
so large I could almost touch, Your smile.
Postmodern Reflection
Blurring vision into false reality
virtually glowing in front of us,
in the seduction of the glass,
we reflect upon our image.
Reason too futile to understand
failed those before us.
Organized religion confused us,
leaving us with more questions.
We look into the mirror and ask,
can I worship the figure,
and find myself lost in emotion?
Reality is a manipulated impression,
as we reveal what we can’t understand.
Three Shots Down
Distilled emotion,
we all need a shot of love
in our empty cups.
Trouble’s brewing bitterness,
but the draft will call us all
into the service of our brothers,
two shots happy, one shot sad,
speak easy till we’ve all had enough.
Lost In The Glow
Above the city a red moon rises,
silver and gold glitter below,
and shimmer earnestly in the darkness.
The crimson color of forgiveness
for those who outshine the heavens,
and glorify themselves in the process.
The fallen look above and speculate,
angels wondering where the sky is,
running through the sparkling valley,
finding themselves lost, in the glow.
Falling Off The Bridge
Falling off the bridge,
the distance is great,
the surface rock solid
till we disappear into the depths.
To much water runs beneath
to catch selfish desire
and drown in the moment.
One night we stand
between yesterday and tomorrow
looking at how far we could fall;
deciding to walk towards
opposite sides of the bridge.
Got Gas?
Words are at a premium,
pumping them into our think-tank
to take us where we don’t want to be;
only to blow them out our tails
like flagellant road-hogs.
We pay a high price
to pollute the life we breathe,
as we choke on our filthy minds,
seeking more energy drink,
to put in the can.
Three Nails
I stood outside the city,
as noon turned to darkness.
One final breath for us all,
as our faults shook the earth,
and ripped the veil,
meeting us in our inward place.
Three nails now pierce
the consciousness of their children,
as the sun rises over the hill.
A new day for us all.
Black
A splash of emotion,
a fine line and a curve,
an artist paints an image,
but black adds depth and meaning.
Darker hues in the background,
contrasting shadows subtle and mysterious,
add intensity to the illustration,
making the lighter tones more lifelike,
adding strength and significance,
to reality’s reflection.
Lump Of Clay
Unyielding I would take my shape,
but He chose to break me again.
Melting in gray shades of doubt,
I would finally become malleable,
as He spins me on the wheel.
I slip through hardened fingers,
as a soft touch bends me once more.
Making this ordinary lump
into something of usefulness,
in His hand.
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Marking The Tracks
Tagging a territory
the awkward metaphor rambles on,
meaning something ambiguous;
speaking with the tongues of men,
reading the writing on the wall.
Scrawling script of confusion,
meaning missing on most,
yet marking a line to fight over.
Green and gold shooting needles of silver.
Take the shotgun of addiction
and watch the tracks
roll your train of thought away.
Woven Threads
I weave a garment of thin cloth
and barely cover parts
I’d rather you not see,
but always expose a part of me
hoping for some intimacy.
We sit together
trying to find what’s under
the woven threads of conversation,
as we hide behind our clever meaning,
unintentionally uncovering, our true selves.
At Your Feet
Falling once again,
I end up where I belong.
The most high place
down in front of You.
I face the floor and tremble.
So this is where You wanted me.
You lift me up to see myself
through the eyes of One
who looks at me.
Seeing You, I finally understand,
who I am.
Question the Cube
If I unlock the box,
confusion expands into my world.
It could never contain You,
but it felt safer that way.
The universe and more
in a cube that I toss,
trying to know Your will.
Chance and destiny turn over each other,
and a lot is found in the moments,
I dare to question the limits
I’ve placed on You.
Metal Men
They set themselves up as men of metal,
their shinny surface to see ourselves in.
The model to emulate, where standards
begin and end.
Steppin’ on toes that they do not know,
and slicing emotion into variables to balance.
Metal men, set them up for a fall if you can.
Their sharp edges cut tenderness
into raw insensitivity,
leaving shards in the wound
later infected with bitterness.
I want to melt the metal men,
to warm from the inside,
till their surface glows, and liquefies.
Don’t we all want to melt
the metal men.
Inner Most Chamber
On this side of the veil
we treat You as familiar,
but to slip past the curtain of the physical
and enter our inner chamber
is a terrifying thought.
Kneeling before the sun rose,
and asking to meet with You
was nearly impossible.
Then You ripped the shroud
that You hid behind,
and entered us,
whispering wonder, inside.
Sacred Pop
Faith mixed with pop,
the counter culture tickles their ears,
and settles somewhere between the channels.
Behind the lyric and tune is the buzz of the crowds
amplified by the machine of societies' mediocrity.
Thirty-two bit clarity
lost in the floating point
of purposeful ambiguity;
the reflecting light flickers
through the glow of rose colored
stain-glass windows.
Off tempo the faithful will dance
till tomorrow becomes yesterday,
and the beat continues to change
into the music, of sacred rhythms.
Looking
How long shall I write you letters,
and how long shall I speak to the air?
You have turned a def ear to my longing,
and replied with silence to my call.
Oh singer, have we not sought affection,
and found tenderness with our friends?
Why then do you not seek such from me?
And why do you leave me alone?
Perhaps I am a stalker.
A wild eyed codependent lunatic,
gawking over photos of your beauty,
undressing you with my eyes.
Perhaps not.
I walked in the garden with our Lord.
I still hear His voice,
but His touch a distant memory,
and it was not enough.
I knew Him well
but He said I was alone,
indeed I was, for He was not like me.
He created others,
and we wander in the crowds,
looking for someone.
Speaking Silence
I just spoke silence
with the seeker next to me.
The words were eloquent and sweet
as we sat there in perfect harmony.
Breathing the wonder
of shared memories,
words left unspoken
echoed in knowing eyes.
In that moment,
we realized, eternity.
Red-Line
Speeding on the red-line
through the stations of the cross,
tracks collide with the freight of progress,
and slip into eternity.
Some take the trip so casually,
and are lost in the pulse of the night.
Angels traveling to fast to ponder perpetuity,
stepping across the threshold of the moment,
into darkness or light.
Grasping The Flame
We light a candle and say a prayer,
but do we dare hold the flame?
Some do hold it, deep inside,
flickering with Your breath,
it dances through the windows
of their eyes.
But we only want to keep warm,
to melt the chill of the world
on the outside.
Turning inward, if I reach
to grasp the flame,
I know I’ll get burned.
Know The Glow
Day to day we measure the moments
‘round the circle, as our hands
can’t keep pace with reality
and the seconds slip from our grasp.
Take a moment to stop the spin,
and slow the cycle to a natural pace.
Sit in the center and realize
the world revolves around the light.
Take it in, and know the glow,
that bends about it all.
Searching For The Signal
The heat rising from the concrete,
blurs the city into a low-rez
pixilated mosaic of mankind.
Flat figures hope for the night,
when clarity will come to the stars.
When the secure sharpening
will come to our image.
The electric snow has passed
and our picture skips
searching for the signal,
that promised us perfection.
Circle To The River
I wander in the circle You have set,
covering old ground in my memories.
The fire burns dim in the distance,
and I hope I’ve made the last turn
‘round the arc of my recollections,
coming back to where I turned away.
I struck the rock and drank from the flow,
not knowing what I was doing,
but now I long to cross the river
and be baptized from this death,
into the new life, You have promised.
Drowning In Darkness
The waves of my emotions
drown a troubled mind in itself.
Sinking into melancholy moments
the glow from above turns blue
and disappears in the liquid worries
that fill my chest as I breathe.
I shall never know if the sun will rise,
the hue of my doubts turns darker still;
these depths must have a bottom,
a place to stand, and look up,
if only to gaze into the darkness.
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