losing Footing

Casting pearls before swine
Falling in the same trap every time
When will I learn?
Sometimes drawing near to douse fires
might mean getting close enough to burn
Can I ever learn,
Or simply designed to always burn?
Rain falls on the faithless
and the faithful
just the same
Some see “Living Water”
Some see only rain
For some…
a thing to care not,
try not…
to discern
I’ll write my own epitaph
and etch it upon a stone
“Made some laugh
some cry
some think
Caused a cause
Gave cause to pause
Broke vows
broke promises
broke laws
was amused
Given insights and wisdom
and remained confused
In the end
took no comfort
in comforting
Giving freely
only feeling rejected
and used
the one thing I’ve learned
is how to meet the devil head on
face to face
Just speak of God
to any random stranger
nine of ten times
Satan will show himself
No one will beiieve you
Cept’ Perhaps maybe one of a hundred thousand
or less…”

Bitter Herbs

Refusing to write anymore!
You can’t make me!
Enough is enough
Till there is more
Then a new “enough”
Is born…
Once shaken to the core
Yea…is maybe?
Nay…is I don’t know?
At a crossroads frozen
Not knowing which way to go?
The messages past in word plays
From hand to hands
Taking flight…
Never to return
Gems, pearls, our glasses
Counting grains of sand
It pains
It stings
It lingers
Breaks peace to disobey
I will…not to pen
Not a single thing more
No matter what You say
Accept the fear and trembling
Consequences that may ensue
Except of course
for this last thing
of heired gripes
not like being bereft of willpower
You can’t make me
Even though you are my Maker
You can’t…I won’t
What good does it do?
I’m leaving it all behind…
To die
And not looking back
With tears in my eyes
Not anymore
I’m tired
And weak
I’m sick
And frail
And no one truly gives
A rat’s ass in this world
The one ‘in’ but not ‘of?’
You already know that
So just send Your smite
Anything is better than these so called
That make one tendered and vulnerable
Submitted to wounds and sorrow
This side of Glory
behind a veil
of struggles and strifes
Being eviscerated while in anguish
where bodies’ writhe unseen
grimaces belie stifled screams
Where Love, though real…
is regarded
as just another word
in another day
taken for granted
Look at it all Lord,
And show us it’s not too late
Help us to remember, read over and live in believing…
Romans 8:28.
(The funny thing is…
once one knows this,
the blessings outshine
through every nightmare)


Sometimes a ‘cuss on lips
shoots straight out from the hips
perhaps even well meaning
only proves to show the carnal “exposed”
But Heaven knows…
That some who speak lovely
in fact do “ugly”
Cite Philippians 4:8
quoting the same
whilst unduly testing others unto shame
Would it not be preferable
to be honestly outwardly hated
than loved…
by those who only pretend to be friends?
subterfuge abounds
this side of glory
to what end?
the measuring sticks vary
no line is straight
sometimes favored by the short end
and by the long condemned
How can one measure what is right
without an accurate measure of wrong?
If this be a work in progress?
Then it’s not progressing very well
not well a’toll.

Or We Are Unblest

St. Paul’s Cathedral, London

In London, September 1802

O Friend! I know not which way I must look
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,
To think that now our life is only drest
For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,
Or groom!-We must run glittering like a brook
In the open sunshine, or we are unblest:
The wealthiest man among us is the best:
No grandeur now in nature or in book
Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,
This is idolatry; and these we adore:
Plain living and high thinking are no more:
The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
And pure religion breathing household laws.

William Wordsworth