GROTH IN EXPRESSION: Christian Poems

VEIN THROUGH TIME
(Genesis 1:1, *Isaiah 40:31)

Unfolding before me
slowly is a facet of Love’s
divinity.
Through grace I begin to see---
a red, red rose; the vein of time;
just one more reflection of His perfection.
For, there is a theme,
a holy theme to every life--- He will be glorified.
A theme of justice, or of grace---
of hope, and love, and dreams fulfilled.
Grief strickens; a weary soul grows sore,*“but
those who hope in the Lord, will renew their strength…”
As hours crawl by, I find that I am being sucked forward
through this vein, this portal of time, like a time machine---
this vein of light weaves through the darkness
in lines and figure eights, but nevertheless is being
plummeted forward in a steady stream of light
before and behind...
And at the end...
I will find...
Our veins lead to the gleam in His eye,
and the light from his robe,
or the strike of His finger.
Propelled from the glory of the Bright and Morning Star,
our lives, these facets of Love’s divinity, have shone the way
through the darkness (just another facet)
and have finally and majestically
found their way
to their
rightful
home.

AN EXTOL
(James 1:17)
As long as there is no shadow to
Your turning, these
words should not cease!
A blanket of light across the firmament,
if You were truly exposed!
And likewise, across
this paper a thousand themes, a million
painted dreams, and a hundred vivid rhymes!
Exposed further, a winding garden embracing
this life’s path, and warm lifeblood
to pump through this
LOVER’S heart.
Across this heart is forever
written Your psalms of life,
of love, and of truth.
Truth---
One facet of your glory,
ever reigning staunchly on
the high mountain tops of
EXISTENCE and TIME.
Reigning.
Likewise, Your love reigns
in the sinews, fibers, and atoms
of all that is invisible and seen.
Burst!!
A pinpoint of light exploded; earth.
Explosion two; creation.
Christ, then
Rapture.
Each starburst a wondrous facet of
Your glory to light the sky of life
and to lead.
*************
And do I trust in your majesty,
Do I live for your song?
Do soul and Spirit dance
A dance
Across eternity never to be
Replicated again?

Is there a glimmer in my eye
Reflecting the Son;
A beauty against pools of dark?
My Father, I see before and
After time the white of Your smile,
The elegance of sheep’s wool,
And the fire in Your eyes;
Pools to the cauldron
In Your soul.
I see it all.
Ironically now and then
I see it all,
as before time and
After time our love chases each other.

AUTUMN
Oranges and Reds
paint across her
earthy sky.
The beat of her dreams
give way to a
level and sensible reality.
Dullness
is the rough edge of
her mechanical
reasoning.
These grey skies loom---
but with purpose.
(Or is it grey at all, or traces of turning?)
This reality ever so slowly grows
roots that dig deep, deep,
and deep into soil that is ever so warm
(but only somewhat moist).
Hazard also looms.
But, no worries, the best houses have
the foundation of rock.
Reasoning is ever grey,
but it is so amazing how
in the sun you can see
that as reasoning SITS (with all its shadows of turning),
the sun mercifully
changes the shades lighter and lighter.
One day this shade of grey
shall be just as it should:
a pinkish- yellow hue--- beauty
amidst autumn.
And the growth of reason will have
met her fruition.

FAITH I
(2 Corinthians 5:7)
I will see your face in faith.
Your features so lovely in form to me,
have eminence through your Word and choices.
There’s expression through your
Word,
the crease of your brow through your
yeses and nos.
Sometimes; however; your Word, choices,
yeses, and nos; through the enemy,
paint a distorted picture (like in a carnival
fun house),
but,
I will see your face in faith.

FAITH II: WHOLENESS
Escaping reasoning,
my spirit leaps into the
light of the oblivion.
Hopeless chapters
of boundaries and mistakes
elude me now as
the Spirit draws me closer
and closer to freedom.
I am bundled in the warmth of
the price and the purchase, and its
solid completion, as in royal robes--
marvelous these royal robes!
These robes are authority that can
decree that trouble, sin of my heart,
and the deceptive obstruction of will
and reasoning
be sent to banishment.
The light of morning’s dawn pierces.
And with hope no longer a crutch, I
march headlong into this
dream called faith--- and pray
that any facade of my conviction
diminishes into
the completion of faith’s wholeness.

HAUNTINGS
(2 Corinthians 4:6, 1 Peter 2:9)
Dreaming is for fools.
There is no solace in a
FOOL’S PARADISE.
Dreaming brings
heartache, sorrow,
and unnecessary pain.
CAN
the
dreamer change
her spots?
CAN the
widow
beat
the
clock?
CAN
the
soldier
meet his aim?
CAN the
dead
rise again?
A willowy, simple thing
is your faith! It has
not the strength to rescue itself
from a Fool’s Paradise!
*************
If there is no WISH within you,
is there
life within you?
How can one
not piece together
fragments of
existence or a shattered
heart?
Before you, I stand
as one who will be a WITNESS
to YOU,
even the dark world,

of its perennial
foolishness and
peril. A WITNESS
I am of His
acute light, that life which is
the light of men.
As dreamers linger,
gliding like wraiths
through this darkened globe,
remember our acute light---
slicing through your existence
and hurling you nearer and
nearer to hell.
Aww...
You...
Is acute light
your nightmare?
Are FAITH and kindness
your haunting?
Do they
remind you of
a past and a future
as you writhe in
today?
May God judge,
and may
for God’s sake
and man’s,
I forever
be a
LIGHT in the
midst
of your darkness...
(and LIES...)!

HEAT TO SIMMER

I am squeezing these
words
like red sauce through
a ketchup bottle;
my passionate heart
is blood red.
And the throbbing of
my heart is never
STILL until...
this mind, fragile as a
ripe tomato is
rested on Your Word, or
who You are.
These arms, in the process,
are only happy reaching out,
or up.
And sometimes this spirit,
as complex as an onion, is
revealed, and there is much
irritation and many episodes
of tears.
Nevertheless...
Pero es sangre de mi sangre. This
is blood of my blood, and the ache
of my tears,
and the PRAISE of my
feeble
passions.

I WAR
(1 Corinthians 9:27)

I
WAR.
I
BATTLE.
I
FIGHT.
RAGE.
I
SEETHE.
I
RUN.
I
SWEAT.
I
TRY.
I
BITE.
I
KICK.
I
THRUST.
AHHH...
TO BE LIKE DAVID,
TO BE LIKE DANIEL.
TO RAGE AGAINST
SELF, SPIRITUAL FORCES, AND
THE WORLD.
TO BE SO ENTWINED
WITH THE CREATOR THAT
YOU FIGHT FOR THE SPOILS OF HIS
APPROVAL.
AND THERE IS PEACE IN EVERY PARRY,
AND THERE IS WEALTH
IN EACH TIRESOME THRUST.
LIKE A MASOCHIST
CRAVE TRUTH STRIPPED
BARE AND PLAIN,
AND SHIMMY IN EVERY
PAIN,
AS YOU “SELF SACRIFICE, SIN CRUCIFY.”
“PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO TRAINS MY
HANDS TO WAR.”
“THERE IS A TIME FOR WAR, AND A TIME FOR PEACE.”
AND MY THROAT IS RASPY,
AND I AM WEIGHED DOWN BY MY SWORD,
AS I LOOK UP TO A SETTING SUN.
MY END IS COMING NEAR,
AS
I
WAR,
I
FIGHT,
I
RAGE,
I
SEETHE,
I
WIN.

JUST LIVE
To live is to die
to insecurities,
To writhe in luxurities,
To be pampered
by the foolishness
Of the wind.
To live is to dream,
furthermore,
To swim in a dream, and
feel no anxiety
from exerted limbs.
No. The limbs don’t exert.
They gllliiiiiiide.
It doesn’t take
much to live,
Just a grain of sand
called hope.
A fool can live.
To live is nothing less than
To fly.

KEKE: TO MY SISTER

My little girl,
composed of the earthiest of elements.
Eager finger and toes.
Funny, direct, and full of sentiment.
Hopeful in living,
swallow the apple of life in a single gulp.
Sweet angelic light in its eminence,
my bestest reward, and more than enough.
You’re childish and playful, healthy and mild,
stylish and generous,
with great toothy smile.
All time will ensure,
as right from the start,
through dark and forever,
our bond will not part.

ANGELS

Restlessness settles
and the caves of indifference
wash over like a wave.
Apathy had its place here,
while peace and pleasure
knew no home.
Angelic whispers; however, permeate
and echo through
walls of slavery and
despair. “This house can shine with
brightness and light.”
“There is hope and dawn, follow Him into the
way everlasting.”
Then rays of light filter through and
block the shade.
They warm fingers and feet once
frozen, and a heart and
mind once cold with the bitter draft of
severe winters torrential
and sad.
And so on...
Angels, good spirits, and the Holy Ghost
lead me on promoting peace, wealth of spirit,
and wellness.
So I’ll dream of the fullness of this light
as it becomes more a part of me and
my destiny, and ever more a part of my
permanent Home.

PASTED
(*1 Corinthians 15:51- 52, *Revelation 22:5)

Indescribable peace.
Infinite wisdom.
The undefinable
made known
to creation as a whole.
The weathered storm and release
finds its
slot in this portion of time.
Can the soon to be bride
fathom the mysteries beyond
the stars?
And marked in my world
I saw His eye---
ever watching---
ever perceiving---
ever hoping for me.
My beloved groom,
on a sweet day soon,
to come and paste
our unbelievable experience
into infinity.
*“And they shall all be changed, in
the twinkling of an eye...”
And the light from Him,
as piercing as a sword,
as sharp as a laser,
and as fine as a pin,
will pull from
all spirit, soul, and body;
burning each trinity from His light.
Sin will drizzle down our temples
into a murky puddle
at our feet, and flare into laser fire,
leaving its smoke as far as the
east from the west.
New flesh.
Nimble legs.
And clear breaths overtake the
Church as
it moves up the aisle of the stratosphere.
Stars and planets will twinkle their joy and approval
on that journey until
She reaches her destination.
*(“...and there we will be with Him forever.”)

PILGRIM OF THE SHADOWS

Purpose is not that far my child---
it’s just a journey’s walk.
It is the One at the end of the journey,
it is the end of the journey, and it is the journey
itself.
And when you thirst, do you not drink?
And when you are cool, do you not warm yourself?
and when you are weary, do you not rest?
And if you need meaning, should you not reach out?
I said out! My child, out!
In all simplicity those in need reach out and receive beyond
themselves.
He’s at the end of the quench,
and the relief of the warmth,
the satisfaction of a rest, and the
salvage of a soul.
Does your soul cry out?
Does it quiver and quake?
Does your spirit shake like mine?
We each have a quiver bone, a quartz of sorts.
And when it ticks do you let it hum a sweet
Melody to the King?
Or do you with clenched fists,
Smother, and choke and silence the throb of a
bleeding soul?
There’s a darkness that comes,
Soon there will be no song.
No throb.
And all lifeblood will cease.
And the quiver bone will quiver, now in coldness, and
Fear
with smoke filled gasps, and choke- filled tears.
ALL OUT NOW! All have had the chance.
The train stops here! Since you’ve entwined so deeply into the comfort of lies,
be one with it. Lies, death, hell, the grave, and darkness are all yours, then.
His earth has been purged of you; off to your bed of suffering!

PREDECESSORS

Sacred alliances deep in the recesses of abysmal
chambers
shadow our graves.
They hearken to our youthful
whims to resurrect our dreams.
The hope of the eternally departed
will on the other side through God or
conscience scream,
“Just what did you enter the chains of life for?
For humdrum, lifeless patterns of lace and
embroidery???
Those threads have snapped your
treasures from your useless spirits and bodies!
Be forever imprisoned by apathy and indifference!”
And your souls will scream on the other side, your spirits
will moan and wail--- for what your heart refused to do,
for what your hands refused to ensue. For what your mind
refused to choose and your message’s frail decisions.
Enliven, awake, arouse your sleeper’s dreams
and find an inspired and insured portion of rest.
And should your heart truly choose to excavate...
Let your song sing GOD’S TRUTH fused with the momentum
of ideals flowered from GOD’S TRUTH and that choice that
satiates the deepest of dreamers’ dreams.
Deep in the recesses of uncomprehended chambers,
and beyond the grave there lies the other sacred alliance hearkening from
the other side.
The sacred alliance,
The Sacred Alliance of 3, going through earth, fiery hell, and shame.
It filled the depth of the soul of those who will choose to
imagine the deepest.
HE beckons: Take the latter, and enjoy the former, entwine with
the Sacred Alliance of 3, every other alliance came by Me, and with
unspeakable replete dreams...
forever...
and ever...SPEAK!

[e-mail]
i am
burrowing delicate hands
beneath the soil of a willow
tree, and am
forced
to allow pointed thoughts
to meander through my reverie.
with blinking eyes i flutter
back tears of hope and fear---
instead calling forth peace into
my atmosphere.
Opposed to call forth holy war
to Time,
for the climes of life can change
upon the spinning of a dime.
A fragrant mist breezes by,
(slowly on the canvas of my heart)
i note the similarity between my
hands and the soil, and
with fingers slightly apart,
i pointedly
delight in the
treasure of me.

RECOMPENSE RELENTLESS
Bringeth home the
Stolen goods, for on her spirit
We shall dine. Unbecoming are her
Scrambling awry attempts
At peace and a home. We will
Lay here content under her shadow of
Ignorance and delusion, and delight and
Feed as kings!

SEALED
Homing the microchip,
worlds in the balance,
allow me this piece of yourself dearie.
allow just this
piece to get inside you,
really get inside your veins,
to teach you, reform you
to this fancy lifelong game.
political machinations
in place and taking their toll.
artistic inspirations and
ethnic liberations
can sway and steal a nation,
and a soul.
come with us,
one by one.
one by one,
take your mark
against the
Holy One.
Make your decision
against the frail, and
against the brand,
of the telling marks
of nail pierced hands.
His influence now in
too many lands.
Take your mark with us.
His ways, His rules
we cannot take,
His words we cannot endure.
But here my friend
come closer now,
this magic square's the cure.
A new life's waiting just for you,
just open up the door.
This way's much better,
peaceful too,
if we all would just agree.
Take this number 666,
and imagine what we'll be.
Sealed. Free. Our world. Our laws.
Give me your hand now dearie,
Give your life to the cause.

STRANGE FRUIT
I picked a golden apple from
the stem of disbelief.
Unaware had I
my sin of doubt
would forecome a strange retreat.
How fitting it seemed to worship at
this
foreign and lovely palm;
to commune amid the stars;
to connect in celestial songs.
Fruit ripe, then sweet; meat
tender, then crisp, juice trailing
down my chin;
was an extending of the scepter
to my haughtiness and sin.
In life and times too often you’ll find
result to choice askew.
It’s an oasis in a desertland,
a pink amid the blue.
So dreamers, pilgrims,
pick your mark; and
love without relent.
’Tis not solely of your own affairs,
what’s kept and what is spent.
Fret not, race, and suffer not,
of faults that you must pay.
For in grace and time
I’m sure you’ll find
this fruit on
journey’s way.

THE AGE OF ALL THINGS
(*John 12:24, 25; *1 Corinthians 15:52)
Nerved.
Naked am I, bare,
and pretty
dang freezing cold.
I am losing strength,
and finding Yours,
emanating from the
air and into my spiritual veins,
to fill me with
virtuosity and hope.
There appears to be only an ember
on this candle of mine, as time
jeers and pokes at me with
fencer’s sword.
Blemishes splotch my face,
and gray strands are in place.
Weight follows me around like a shadow,
(“When am I going to lose weight?”)
hiding light and life.
Darkness circles my eyes,
and glass scars slash my arm
and thigh gotten in ’ 99.
And what was my next thought?
Oh, but,
Jesus said, “If you have Me,
you have life.”
Still it seems that mind, spirit, and body
are old and are seeing time.
Ah, but, there is a time for every season.
*“...unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground...”
*“...the perishable will be raised imperishable.”
Death in the cycles of life.
In Christ, this is the age of all
things.


THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE
“If you have Me, you have life.”
Break through...
Must break through...
Back to the light of Life.
He is the resurrection and the life.
Yeah, sometimes I do see a light in
my eye, and a pomp
pomp in my heavy steps,
and a tilt to rouge painted lips.
I
WAR.
I
RAGE.
I
SEETHE.
I FIGHT.
The age of all things?
Nah.
An echo from the essence and experiential fact of
The Resurrection and The Life,
vibrates through my spiritual life, walk and
mind by whisper:
“... bear fruit in and out of season.”
I obey it,
as the life from
that
whisper...
INVIGORATES!
me.


THE SLEEPER

Undecided and quite defined
the rage it torrents over time.
The perceptible see
the eager reach
the meek and learned can
bridge the breach.
The darkness subsides
the lust it fades
for hope declares
and sun will shade.
The tide falls froward
the laughter will rise
the anguish ceases with
razor eyes.
The dreamer dreams,
the sleepers lie,
the hoper’s grief will
surely fly.
Of rain and sleet,
and attempts awry.
The sleeper sleeps
with dreamy eyes.
Can cadence dwell in such
a place?
Can unity rise in spite
of race?
How can jewels of splendor
grace
Such a bruised,
and tear-stained face?
A heroine dies and so we
see, things are not as they
should be.
The meek are the bridge,
the meek are the tried,
with valiant strength, and
simple pride.
And time twists forward ineffectually.
While efforts rage, and
dew still dries,
the sleeper sleeps with dreamy eyes.


TO A CERTAIN SAVIOR
(*O Come, O Come Emmanuel (popular hymn))*

O Come, o come, Emmanuel,”
And ransom captive Israel.”
But I am not Israel, I am only
a Gentile, in need
Of lifeblood.
Come still,
A rejector I am not,
So come unto me,
O Savior
and King.
As I write tears fill this page
And my dismay knows no
Bounds. In hope I surrender
Myself to the throes of sorrow
Convulsing my body and mind,
And am one with it….
As I am one with you….
Waiting…

UNRULY THOUGHTS
(2 Corinthians 10:5)

Little fragments of substance keeping
Out fluidity and clarity---
Oil in water.
Evil imaginations now in the
Realm of our air and space.
Out imaginations,
Lord, distill this commune, so
My brothers and I may
Walk hand in hand.

UNTITLED I

Branded
by a name.
I froze…
desperate to make hope mine.
Alive by the thought of newness
my limbs extended---
namely my arms---
then fists pummeled forward.
and how did i know that time was locked,
that corrosion was my foundation and core.
Absolved.
Here to disappear into this nothingness,
to end in whatever---
this resignation ironically against my will
but not against my fear and fate, which binds me
evermore to sorrow and peril.
The disgust of pills film my mouth,
the filth of Satan’s defilement,
of mind, soul, spirit and heart corrode
at my dignity.
The slaughter of this sheep,
the bleating of this lamb,
rings like excessively loud
sirens in my ears.
In my mind and in the cores of my heart I
see a picture of God laughing at me.
I am not His.
Why would He want me anyway?
Is there no hope for me?
Here to disappear into nothingness---
to end in whatever.
Here, but not really here.
A kick of rigor mortis dispells,
A living corpse.
Later to be brought to a
Living Hope.
And how could she know that
time indeed was locked and
even her corrosion was known from
before existence...
and that
Baring the soul,
like Mary Magdalene,
has its place...
that “a broken and contrite spirit
He will not turn away.”
Now,
with hope she reaches,
each circle of her cycles
orbiting around
the Son.
But we know what
happens to the earth in
the end?
She burns, and there’s a
new heaven and new earth.