We're all on a road to somewhere.
Like a Rising Stone
~ a voyage of homage
A time for Life,
to seek, to be found.
To feel, and to be touched.
To hear truth.
How sweet the sound.
To taste goodness.
Goodness to be tasted.
To love, and to be loved.
Without the Divine,
the time of your life
. . . truly wasted
To know what Love is,
with just a picture big glimpse
through an open door.
Beyond the broken schemes,
and forsaken dreams,
littering a crooked floor.
Of things never spoken
this side of the shadow curtain.
Tasting that promise certain
of abundantly so much more.
“Just keep on walking!”
I saw a werewolf
with a hymn book in his hand
prowling around
as he sniffed the ground
from Jonestown to Gaza
He’s that well manicured gent
some say he is heaven sent
I’d like to meet his tailor
You can hear him howling
on your television set
Better not turn it on
Little old lady got bitten
late last night
Werewolves of Religion again
. . . Ooh Ahh
Bursting out
from the Hotel Eden
a thunderous explosion.
The trembling earth
cracked wide open
as from the firery breath
of a vengeful dragon.
Smoke swirling around
angry flames of hot venom.
Shattered glass descending
like vicious rain
over everything broken.
The dead and the dying
a shrine to destruction.
Upon the bloodied lips
of dazed confusion
a burning question …
“How could a loving God
allow this to happen?”
Junk in school
Junk on the street
Junk is lurking
every place
that people meet
There’s nowhere safe
Can you stand the heat?
Best be cool
and fast on your feet
Junk that cheats
and is hard to beat
NO EXITS ~ EXIST ON
In the car park
of a stark oblivion
best leave
your engine running
Don’t phone it home
all on your own
If you’ve got the app
of a beating heart
with an overflowing cup
don’t text it to the exit
Within the recreation
of divine sublime trust
Sexit up …
if you really must
Ever since creation
Viva la différenciation
Just don’t let
your love rust
and turn into dust
when life is a bust
Six long weeks
roaming the dry crust
of a sun burnt wilderness.
Nothing but rocks and red dust,
The hot desert winds
that flay the skin
… now murmuring,
with words broken
of souls lost and forsaken.
Best I finally surrender
upon this alien terrain
the haunted trauma
of a time I’ve tried in vain
. . . to never remember.
