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Poetry
Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Do I buy what I said?
Yesterday! Yesterday! I forget how I bled.
Why kick and scream at the unmet dream
That tomorrow's sting will never bring.
Dream now to now know
What the next step will show
By decisions in a row.
No more blame to throw.
As a flying eagle now in flow
No longer stuck eating crow.
I love you in the morning
I love you in the night
I love you in the evening
Even when things don’t seem right
I trust you in the morning
I trust you after noon
I trust you when I’m happy
Even more so in the gloom
I lose ever so often
I win when it is right
I see what is best
When what’s good is not in sight
Sometimes I am down
When I feel I am stuck
But I know faith is stronger
With no focus on bad luck
In my sleep I hear you
In my heart I know what’s up
It is you my Abba Father
Strengthening me to start back up
Slighting the light is not a light sighting.
It’s a turn away from a turn around.
A spit in the grace of the shining Face.
To house the knowhow from the do now
Is to arouse the hows outside moral ground.
It’s a risk to insist rather than surrender
It makes more sense to be tough than tender.
A wise man takes a village
so the village can make wise men.
But wise guys seem to win
Nine times out of ten.
But counting to ten gives me a win
bowing to the One left without sin.
To doubt about is about doubt.
There’s no clout in only doubt.
If doubt is everything, then everything is not doubt.
No doubt something is true, but what do I do?
I do not doubt until I see through
that taking a doubtful step leads to step two.
Rinse and repeat
the washing of feet
the sensing of cleansing
the drinking of thinking
able to enable
all on the table
turning as burning
no longer earning
the right to hurt
free to fail
inspired, no veil
adjunct add joy
no junk no ploy
word play
here to stay
instructed tongue
as heard sung
Open the door that I may see
You're the One who's guiding me.
Setting me free from myself
removing me from the dusty shelf.
Sending me forth by your word
speaking what in the past was heard.
The truth about your redeeming Son
who reveals You are the only One,
the true living God who sent his Son.
The door is opening partially.
Could it be a smile I see?
Is the light in your Son
a smile upon me?
Yes! By the smile of the Son
it is You I see.
Yes, it is You who’s guiding me.
March 13, 2003
Ray, I say, today
warm the swarm
light the right
sun the Rays
of dances and plays.
Play to pray.
Pray to say
sons of the sun
outshine the gray.
It’s almost May
the month I say
I was born a son
to still the fray.
My accident was my accent and emphasis
blocking my purpose and synthesis.
Uncommon sense as sensei from Providence.
Returning to restore my confidence.
Action becoming prominence
from obedience, not dominance.
Lies and neglect go hand in hand
keeping a son from being a man.
Love is forgotten in a demand.
Fatigue is not a way to command.
Exhaustion is the promised land.
This is where I feel His hand.
Forgiveness is the exercise band
strengthening what I know I can.
Don’t envy in others what is bland.
Plow the promise in the Fatherland.
Rail the road as a witness stand.
Loco motion no sleight of hand.
2 Corinthians 5:13,14
Been around the block
while going around the world.
Spinning on the circle
like a clam around a pearl.
Was lost until hidden
now hiding is forbidden
what confusion could not,
is now overwritten.
Foggy in the mourning,
marching in the madness,
vengeance now a warning,
darkness permitting sadness.
Returning to the corner
in my circle of influence and effect.
No longer a cause of unintended neglect.
The advancing retreat
by sleight of feet
a more firm hope
at the end of her rope.
Appearing as caught
in the web of a spider
Hope against hope
tried her while guided her.
A future with fear, a stopwatch with no stop.
I wonder, I wander, I resist, I insist.
You change, not me, in order to be free.
Free to stop time, I turn back on a dime.
Looking for the sublime in my past mind.
Imagine that. Memory like a gnat.
Straining over that. Pinned on the mat.
Is that where I sat. Was I flat?
I don’t know so I can go.
No! Stop. Grow.
My pain isn’t plain on the pane of the insane.
So perturbed with the absurd I curb the verb.
Stopped in my tracks with tracks on my back
I lickety-split by throwing a fit.
I spout about til I rout the doubt.
I get stuck by luck in the fallout.
Under the bus there’s always a Gus
who guesses my stresses and dresses my messes.
Are you the who who gives a hoot?
Or the pout who gives a shout from the round about?
My back’s bus tracks from the drive-by hacks, now lax.
I rise at sunrise to surmise the prize that denies the lies.
Here goes the rose, the thorn scorned, past mourned,
no longer torn in two but into the view.
I see I’m free to reframe the blame.
Once lame, no more the same, sane in the gain.
Daring to care no longer a scare…
As the cat bats the rat
the rat says scat
to berate the cat
as the cat just sat
since the rat didn’t scat
the cat ate the rat
now catting
as a fat cat
that rats on
any cat
that exposes the rat
as the cat
