Five.Eyes In The Back Of My Head.

“But if I didn’t say it, well I’d still have felt it
where’s the sense in that?”

Have mercy on my mind.

Advertisements

Four. An Ode to the Taj Mahal.

Oh white, marble mausoleum my, my I’ve chased and whored after all your splendor!

I was told you could loose my chains & arouse life back in this little, brittle case.

How you were promised to stir remembrance, honor, and nobility & told me affection had gone to no waste.

But oh white, marble mausoleum my, my I can’t shake the itch which sticks when  I scan your ivory walls and seemingly precious skin!

There are some rumors of true, black stone origin,  blood, dismemberments and mutilations  associated with thee.

How your note to give serves only an illusion that steals, kills, robs & costs more than I can afford or to which  I agreed.

On my own I cannot find

the grain of truth in this ancient tale of lies

but one thing I know & haunts with  clarity that looms

whether  monument of love or monument of cruelty at the end of all your magnificence

you                       are                     still                        just                      a                    tomb.

Three. This Is For Me & This Is For You

You are not for me.

My mind chokes at the days of former thought

those hours and hours without any further notion of individuality

just us, just ours, just we

but you are not for me.

I am not for you.

in fact I’m not too far from  famine or maybe a disease

just a fix, just a high, a coping sort of thing

& I am not for you.

You are not for me.

My throat aches at all of the  words of used-to-say

those pages and pages brimful of intention, expectation, and effortless loyalty

just us, just ours, just we

but you are not for me.

I am not for you.

in fact I was but a mere cacoon or maybe a shell

just there, just temporal, a bandage for your wound

& I am not for you.

You are not for me & I am not for you.

My heart explodes asunder at this wrenching Truth

those plans and plans they were far from His & that divinity

in fact they were illusion, empty hope, a cracked cistern of sorts

I am broken. You are free.

I am not for you & you are not for me.

Two. For When There Is No Closure.

For all the chaos, confusion & space between;

This is the instrumental introduction to reconciliation, the notes & melody sealed with a time signiture

nor you or I or any established  or decided.

These progressed chords were not our own but of a Composer’s more infinite than you or I or any.

It is He who plucks these [heart] strings and my [Soul] responsibility is to keep rhytHim.

Humanity sounds

blood on our hands and folly to no end

guilty in thought

guilty in word

guilty in deed.

This is the plight of you, of I, and of any

this is humanity.

Move into the chorus and I am humbled, distracted by the range my vocals have scaled

too flat in compassion, too sharp in selfishness.

I am sinned against but oh, my own, my own deep & wide!

This is you, this is I, this is any.

Redemption sounds.

Pierced hands,pierced feet, a forgiveness extended to no end

it is finished

it is finished

it is finished

He gasps for you, for I, for any

this is redemption.

Back to the chorus and I am humbled, distracted by the range my vocals have scaled

too flat in compassion, too sharp in selfishness.

I  sinned against but oh, His love, His love deep & wide!

This is you, this is I, this is any.

One. The True Story of Where All This Started

“I’ve got resurrection down inside my skin

but for all my revealating I just can’t make sense of this gravity we’re in.

Cause I’m a dead man now with a Ghost who lives

within the confines of these carbon ribs

and one day when I’m free I will sit

The cripple at Your table

The cripple by Your side

A thousand miles of pain I’m sure led You to the threshold of my heart’s screen door

to tell me what it is I’m dying for

gravity comes like a cold, cold rain to lead me to the rope again

but Someone is standing in my place…” John Mark McMillan

Sometimes you hear songs with your ears. Sometimes, to the embarrassment of those of us with limited rhythm, you hear songs with your limbs.

But then there’s these other songs…these songs that you can hear with your heart.

This is one of those & the resounding backing track to both the joy & pain that have brought this kicking & screaming little brain child of a blog into the wild world of social media.

Without further ado here is my attempt to (perplexing so) make sense of “…the life I live in the body, (of which) I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”