More poems coming soon! 

        I'm Not Here

I am only half a soul

'til heavenward I rise.

I don't fully see, you know,

'til death opens my eyes.

Oh, I can work and live and do

but all my heart is gone.

It's melded into Jesus' heart:

at death my soul turns on.

No, I'm not really here at all

for upward I've been drawn;

meanwhile I learn and serve and wait

until that golden dawn.

        Living Lie

Eat the lie.

Wash the crooked down

with make-believe.

Swallow deceptions whole.

Worldlings dare you:

copy them

without choking.

You'll get used to it;

addicted, more like.

Soon the Rock's honey

cannot be stomached,

neither the salt of the earth,

and too late

the discovery:

you are what you eat.

        Prayer Is

Ceasing spinning;

back to Center.

Catching complaints

to sing a praise.

Standing reasoning

in faith's corner.

Setting impulses

beneath His gaze.

And sitting down

                long enough

to let go. 

        Praying Pawn

Oh, praying pawn

knowing nothing,

stand still, 

wait!

His hand will move you.

You are small, most ignorant of all

to strategies

not even known

to rook or knight

or king.

Valiantly

you play your part,

forge the frontline,

aim attacks

against the black foe

toe to toe.

Inch by inch

you'll cross the field,

first near home

then deeper

into enemy camp.

If grace be yours,

if God wills,

one day

you'll reach the farthest shore

where you'll be Queened,

transformed,

made at last to be

ever powerful and free. 

                        Rainwash

Rainwash                                                                    Son blood

fall                                                                                   fall

drop                                                                                drop                                                     

Down rinse                                                                Strip wrong

clean                                                                               clean 

away                                                                                away

Dust mud                                                                    Sin filth

slide                                                                                slide

free                                                                                  free

Storm's mist                                                             Christ's red

lighten                                                                         whiten

me.                                                                                  me. 

         Salvation:  Operation Salvage

                         (S.O.S.)

We started out real cool, man.

Then the snake-man trashed us.

He was a ring-leader,

      so we joined his gang.

Now the planet is a junkyard--

We're all polluted bad.

The Big Boss brought in

       His crane,

lowered the boom,

and started cleaning up.

He's a small-time operator;

only Him,

and two other bosses.

They started salvaging

with a crew

of only twelve guys.

But they're gig is

the recycling game, man.

And they're real good.

Once a hunk

hits their magnets

the success story

is a done-deal!

They run us through

this giant furnace, see,

and all the bad is

torched right out of us.

To get us to go through,

Bossman Two went ahead first.

The heat killed Him.

But the Big Boss gave Him

a new life!

He's like, untouchable now.

Yeah man, the furnace hurts--real bad.

But we're tough 'cuz of Him 'ya know.

The Big Boss dared us, kinda.

But He's real cool.

He told all us polluters

'bout a construction job

He's doin' just for us.

He says it's way outa town--

clear on the other side

of the tracks.

He told me

there's a special flat

just for me.

Yeah.  The Big Boss

is really tops.

I'm stickin' with Him.

        Sunday Reading

Conspicuous front-porch pages

drop and shock on the

threshold of days.

Though inviting to covet

with bright-slick allure,

these banners of the bed

are drowsy-scanned--

eyes

sewn together

with sleep.

Unobstrusive shelf-gracing volume

tucked and kept in the

background of lives.

Since plainly mysterious,

with deep-sought pleasure,

this Divine diary

must be Spirit-read--

hearts

thrown open

with prayer.  

        Terrible Love

I quake in terror

of Your love,

oh Lord.

It is

too much,

the way You

killed Yourself

for me.

I deserved

            the reprimand,

            the punishment,

            the death-blow.

    But You

    twisted back

    upon Yourself

those mockings,

that whip,

my Cross.

    And viewing the Calvary hill

    I shake in fear of You!

    Who are You,

    Alien Lover?

    From what far realm

    have You flown to rescue me?

    Why invade

    this dense,

    and blind,

    and self-filled

    world?

    I quake in terror

    of Your Love,

    oh Lord. 

        Two Fires

Two judgments blaze and burn from God

so similar in heat.

Two peoples enter in and find

they can't escape or cheat.

It's either fire of hell or trial,

we choose our own terrain.

The one is softer, shorter, kind,

the other endless pain.

The Hebrew children, loving God,

were thrown into a fire.

Yet never burned, their joy increased,

their love for Him sparked higher.

A burning bush in Moses' eyes

was not consumed away,

thus God will not destroy the soul

whose glow His pow'rs display.

There is a lake of fire, we've read,

where rebel souls are cast,

destructive torture ever kills

and death forever lasts.

This lake of judgment merely shows

His Love supremely high.

If void of Love these empty souls

will simply always die.

Our God is a consuming flame

not just to souls in hell,

for if we feel His heat today

it means we love Him well.

But if your life is ease and play

beware the final gate,

for there will blaze the hurt you dread,

but then you'll know too late!