The Broken Hallelujah

For the Loving, the Loathing,
. . . and the target
who never stops moving.
For all the hurt who fell
chasing their own tail
through a reflection glistening.
Four sheets to the wind,
under the full sail,
of a fevered imagination.

Plying the streets of dark heat ,
where children of the strange meet
… an all consuming congregation
of orchestration .
As the angels weep for the sheep
led to feed upon the weeds
of condemnation .
For the bad seeds
with all their good deeds .
For those cast aside ,
set adrift , and forsaken .
For the misspent youth ,
and the seeker of truth ,
sadly mistaken .
All searching for
the unspoken … Hallelujah .

The loving … and the loathing .
A liar was talking ,
I stopped to listen .
A thief came prowling …
life itself being stolen .
A bully accusing ,
who seems to know something ,
condemning every single
simple little thing .
Me about you … you about me ,
who knows absolutely nothing .
Does love divine cover
a multitude of sin ?
Don’t look for a rolling stone
to give you shelter .
Thank God ,
In Christ , we are forgiven .
Yet the bad times ne’er forgotten .
I am the broken Hallelujah .

All the loving and the loathing ,
of my youthful roaming ,
taking flight .
Second to the left
and straight on till evening .
To a place where the sheer might
of delight makes everything
seem right .
The peacocks of my past ,
now vultures feeding
in a maze of spite .
Where the Prince de Phobia
rules by the haze of night .
Where the days are ablaze
and way too bright .
But just as darkness
flees the light ,
I heard the Word ,
and I fought the fight .
Now older , wiser ,
and hanging on tight ,
for the Prince of Peace ,
He is within my sight .
No mistaking … not forsaken ,
I am the broken Hallelujah .

For the loving and the loathing.
For the seeker , exploring ,
who never made it back .
For the boundary rider
who went off track ,
in hot pursuit of forbidden fruit
… the ecstasy and the agony .
For the visionary
who only sees black .
For the dreamer , forever ,
caught in a trance .
The force of nature
caught without pants .
For the lost and excluded ,
praying for a chance .
For those alone in secret places
with the hard drive ghosts
of a thousand faces .
For those too far gone
to maintain the pretence .
There is a Lord
over every circumstance .

For the reluctant evangelist
silenced in the presence .
The Spirit of Holiness ,
Christ Consciousness ,
whispering wholeness
for all those who don’t
have their shit together .
No matter the weather ,
over your satellite antenna ,
be anxious for no such thing .
For in Jesus
we have the real thing .
The original , and genuine ,
the most holy and gracious King .
From the burning lips
and fractured hearts of men ,
has there ever been
a Holy Hallelujah ?
I’ve not heard it yet
from my air raid shelter .
Be the becoming …
The spoken Hallelujah .

The Loving and the loathing .
The listening . The growing .
The being still and knowing .
From earthbound zero
to supernatural hero .
Second to the right
and straight on till morning .
Beyond all human understanding ,
more precious than gold ,
that sacred silence down below .
Seizing back the power
from whence it was taken .
The figment of fear ,
forever , to be forgotten .
A race in the running ,
redeeming this final hour .
The Mercy Spill
from Calvary’s hill
throughout this earthly maze
… may God be praised
with a broken Hallelujah .

I am on a journey ,
searching this side of eternity ,
reaching deep within me
seeking foremost and solely
for that Holy … Hallelujah .

~ by david redpath © 2017

¤ In Memory of Leonard Cohen

3 thoughts on “The Broken Hallelujah”

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