The “Yes!” we scream, whispers “No”
Greet the reaper as he reaps and weep because of the same This silly game We do this to ourselves We’ve mapped out our whole mission We sketched the whole thing out The plan for our destruction The black hole that is you It will consume you More, more is your mantra The only thing that will not go is “no” Inject the pleasure Digest the pain Is it all a game? You dance, You dance to your own dirge
The Present State
The nations plot and rage The world goes grinding on Many caught in her cogs Continually disarranged The turmoil triumphs The plague it plunges all Here we fall We are the fall O’ the hell we’ve made! The world is groaning I reciprocate her pain O’ maranatha!
The Subversive Nature of True Art
True beauty and art subvert the lie whispered in the Garden that roars in cacophonous echo today: “You shall be like gods!”
We walk the path that was blazed by our forebears; we autonomously seek for meaning in ourselves. Yet, periodically we stand before a sunset or Mozart or some other masterpiece and our autonomous walk is halted and we know, we intimately know, and even bask in the fact that we are not god and our good is not in autonomy, it is outside of us. We need. We need God.
Dispossessed
Deconstruction,
interruption of joy
This the plane on which we play
We search for joy
yet buy into a ploy
(that retards our chase)
Oh this race,
we’re broken
Rocked and writhing from the Fall
We crawl into the grave,
disarranged
We buy into the lie
and then we sell it
We run, and run, and run
and fall into the pit we dug
We raze shalom
and raise Sheol
We damn the good
and embrace Gehenna
We are surely dispossessed,
East of Eden
Shalom is Slain
O’ for the worlds that lay asunder,
for the shalom that is slain.
We ingrain habits of unrest,
we fester and pass on spoil.
O’ for the earth to break,
for all to be made anew.
For the habits in my heart to pour out,
and for living waters to ensue.
God this world is broken,
we are altogether damaged and damned.
“Destroy the destroyers of the earth,”
destroy what in me destroys.
Shalom was slain
but through the slain Messiah (is/will be) renewed.
O’ God, Maranatha!
The Life for our life
damp, dark, cold, and silent
enveloped in a shroud in the earth
the Life lay lifeless
the only thing that truly is,
is not?
the Life lay lifeless?
the Immortal Infinite slain?
damp, dark, cold, and silent
from life’s surmise
but from a different gaze
outside of life’s maze
Life lay not lifeless
but death is now dead
defeated!
in violence He brought victory!
enveloped in mystery
the great God of history
was slain, for you, for me
the foil was sprang
it brought Him great pain
our sin is the hand that bore it
yet He took our blame
to purchase our name
He bore the frame of our cross
through vile, the victory
in wrote woe, to wonder
Slave.
Addiction, the affliction we embrace. Drowning in more, yet never full, we consume the poison.
Freedom from the substance, freedom from the porn, is what we yearn, yet ever embrace our shackles.
Numbing ecstasy, this misery. Bound by this high, damaged by this drink.
Party or prison, this prism through which we peer.
Addiction, this affliction, for which we ever yearn. We burn, burn out, and repeat the syndrome.
No end in sight, all is night, an endless cycle down.
Yes, dirt and sand is all this land, as we thirst for peace and joy. An empty well is where we dwell, no thirst is quenched below.
But as I gaze upon Your grave, where for me You bled, my shackles brake and to You take rest from all this hell. Slave to sin, never again; You my Master alone.
Yet why do I embrace this noose that holds me?
Lord, why do I run to a whore when I know all she has in store for me is death?
I see the light, the joy, and close my eyes, and turn away.
Why don’t I stay?
I run to the slaughter but You’ve prepared a feast. I slit my wrist, when for me You bled.
O’ the misery that is me, when I turn away.
Why don’t I stay?
You quench my thirst, all else is empty wells.
Why swallow up this gravel, when You have abounding streams?
O’ the misery that is me, apart from You.
Eternity in our Hearts
We have eternity in our hearts.
We cry out like two daughters: Give and Give.
The fire of our soul won’t be quenched or squelched.
It burns on,
consumes all,
and is left
empty.
Empty abyss,
blank, black hole.
We suck in stars, oceans, all;
and yet repine.
Yes, my soul’s an arid land.
An empty dry sponge.
It sucks up all it can,
yet remains coarse and craving.
My soul’s a vacuum
that won’t be filled.
All is engulfed,
yet I’m left empty.
We have eternity in our hearts
and can only be filled with the Eternal
We have an infinite longing
that is only meant by the Infinite.
Our cavernous soul is only filled
by the LORD.
We can only be sated
by our Savior.
Our repining will finally wane
when we stand on heaven’s plane.
Our soul’s fallowed ground
will burst with new life.
Our bottomless shaft
will abound in streams of joy.
Cosmic Christmas
Long of old
the Scriptures told
of a King who’d come.
In His wake
death shall quake
and the deserts they shall bloom.
Yes, creation creator collide
yet we did not hide
for God He brought no wrath,
there was no blood bath,
the world did not implode or explode into non-being.
Instead, angelic greeting:
“Peace on the earth,
goodwill to men”
because the Great I AM is come.
Our Lord, Messiah, Savior in a crib.
Wonderful Counselor,
Prince of Peace,
Bright and Morning Star,
born.
He who lay the foundations of the earth,
laid in a manger.
The Infinite born,
a swaddled babe.
He that holds the nations in His hand,
grasps His mother’s hand.
He that calls the stars by name,
spoke no name, nor word.
Wonder see!
the Omnipresent crawl!
He formed Himself
in His mother’s womb.
He upheld the nails
that held His hands.
He died for you,
for me.
He became poor
to restore our riches.
Yes, He felt our plight
to set all things right.
He was born to die,
that we might live.
The Deity
incarnate brings
salvation in His wings.
From incarnation,
liberation;
new life has been set free!
The hypostatic union
brings communion;
the LORD walks with man.
Man once again will be in the Garden
because God’s Son walked from Gethsemane.
Satan’s role has been revoked,
the Lord Messiah come.
The demons tremble in His wake;
the blind see,
creation glimmers,
soon the groaning’s seize.
This is the time in between,
the already and not yet.
The Kingdom has come, but not consummated;
it shall be slightly belated.
Peace on the earth,
goodwill to man,
God’s eternal plan in fruition.
The Kingdom has come in God’s Son,
the lion to lay down with the lamb.
Satan and his host defeated,
all their power to be depleted,
they won’t sleep, but feel the wrath of the Lamb.
The immaterial
infused material;
God in the flesh behold!
No tent or temple,
for the LORD tabernacled.
Yahweh is Messiah.
The Offspring Madonna bears
shall wipe all tears
and crush the serpent’s head.
Every fear and tear to be forgotten
in the splendor of our joy.
The beatific vision brings
life and joy in its wings;
for when we see Him, we shall be like Him.
Immanuel,
born the balm,
for the vacuum of our souls.
The myth came true in the manger.[1]
God is no longer a stranger,
but makes Himself known in His Son.
Jesus, Joshua’s namesake, true!
The LORD our Savior come!
He was, and is, and is to come.
All things consummate(d) in Him.
Amen.
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I use myth in the sense that C. S. Lewis used it.
in X 