Already Not Yet

I am a broken not-yet kingdom
Cisterns dried up in tiredness.
I tell all the old tales to myself,
Awaiting the return of a king
He who rides through deserts
To set me completely free, indeed.
I believe already, help my unbelief.
For all has waned to a standstill,
Caught in unmoving, restless time.
Perhaps a chance to firm feeble knees
And put feet straight on broad path
But there's no lifting power left in me.
Listless, I scribble many words
For the simple illusion of progress,
To keep the plot moving forward.
But inwardly I still groan, forlorn -
When will life have taste again?
Without vision I would perish here -
Lead me to the Rock higher than I.

When folly quits to stir

When folly quits to stir
Warm in the prickly heart
And inflames no more
Bare my soul and an arm
Swollen and tattoo-crossed
Self-made crown of thorns
Over the sin of my forefathers
Rage seeps from the bones up
Spreads its toxic fever bubble.

Try to suppress the humors deep
And the hidden tumor will burst,
Break the lips and shatter
On a unrelated but fated day.
To sublimate only serves to
Silt the reddish ire in the veins
Deeper ore still and unreachable.

Claw at the pain but cannot
Scratch away the inky deeps
It seeps into the life streams.
But there is another choice.
To see another's blood spilled
And split the ground with joy
Uprooting the old evil paths
That run me through and through.
Redeeming me from mark of Cain
When folly quits to stir.

life that rests within a seed
dies alone but lives indeed.

Conversation

Yeah, don't read into the question.
That's so weird, I was just thinking about that,
But I was thinking, what it's okay with me, flirt with life, I'm sure-
She was very quiet.
Three days of detox
I think that's a powerful experience – I wrote right back.
And so, I'm like
I don't know
Questions.
We can talk about it any other time but now.
That's what you said the last time.

You would have been in serious trouble
Why, seriously
See ya, hey, thank you
We're gonna hang out
It's been a while
Seriously.
It's been an hour.

Laughter.

show me your glory

there are tear-ridden days
when soundless lips
wrenched wide open
mouth again and again,
i want to understand.
would you show me
the fulness of your plan,
just let me read it all,
straight from your eyes,
as a man speaks to a friend?

but you know my frame
maybe this wracking pain
is but the backside of glory.
who can bear it up and live?
i beg to see his face
do i know what i ask?
but he hides me instead
in the cleft and shields me
from a certain death
and still holds me near.
lord, i won't complain anymore
when your love covers me.

the work of dreams

every day i awake a new adam

the dream and the hand of God

having labored an eternal hour long

upon my unswept wilderness.

i lay my body in a grave of sand

let my stormworn soul settle still.

then he comes, traces in the dust

ciphers of mercy i strain to understand.

why do they lie behind my memory

once morning beams light my eyes?

maybe a secret name to be given,

or a someday body to be risen,

will hold the imprint of very good.