Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Thoughts and Intents

"It's not the beginning of the race that's difficult, nor is it the last stretch; it's the miles in between that make it easy to want to quit."

The following collection was written in the mid to late 80's. I had pieced it together and printed several copies for family and friends within the ministry that I was a part of at that time (see the poem "If I Never See You Again"). The ministry was very outgoing where community involvement was concerned (a bookstore, a coffee house, concerts, feeding the needy, a pregnancy center) and very outspoken about the doctrines and teachings of Christ, with an emphasis on exhorting the church to good works. A lot of the poetry comes from that prophetic background, with a good bit of soul searching and emotional wanderings and wonderings.

Looking through this collection, I find selections that I now find "cheesy" or amateurish. And others I read and think, "Not bad. Nice line. Very insightful. Quite profound." But it was all part of the journey. All of it was written to put a piece of my heart, my soul, my mind on paper; for me to be able to see what was going on inside of me.

From my heart, soul & mind,
Jongleur the Cupbearer

SONGS OF REPROOF

Against Flesh and Blood?

Sign here
On the dotted line
Don't fear
It's during peacetime
It's clear
It's us who keep the peace
Thanks dear
For the life you've leased

I've got
to propect my freedom,
freedom to worship,
worship where I like;
freedom
freedom to speak out
about Jesus' love
so that they won't die.

Not yet
But soon they'll rape your wives
Get set
What are you, men or mice?
Those reds
They really aren't so nice
Be a vet
Kill a commie for Christ!

Onward Christian soldiers…



A Song for Billy Sunday

(chorus)
Tell me, Billy,
                    where have the preachers gone?
                    Have they all run away?
          Where's the fire and the brimstone?
          Where's the preaching of the cross today?
Tell me, Billy,
                    where have the preachers gone?

Let's look at the men of God
          who have come down through the years;
Humble men who've sown the Word
          in bitterness and tears.

In the days before the flood
          hearts were hard with wickedness.
Yet Noah was a perfect man,
          a preacher of righteousness.

Joshua, Samuel, Elijah
          exhorted the people to hear.
Will you follow pagan gods?
          Or serve the Lord with fear?

(chorus)

In the book of Acts we read
          of Stephen whom they martyred.
He spoke the truth of Jesus
          and cut the hearts they'd hardened.

Finney and Wesley and Sunday,
          and other old-time godly men;
Preaching; living holiness—
          sinner forsake your sin.

Now they speak of “liberty”
          and living “free” from law.
Forget about repentance
          and giving Jesus all.

(chorus)

In the last days shall come a famine
          of hearing the word of God…
be doers of the word and not hearers only…

Him who has ears to hear,
          let him hear,
                    oh, let him hear…

Tell me, Billy,
          where have the preachers gone?



Play Acting

Yes, the world is a stage,
Has been from age to age.
All are players on it
Can't get away from it.

Give me a cue on time
And I'll read you a line.
No, it's not from the heart,
But I still play the part.

Play acting—
Tell me who is who.
Play acting—
Won't know 'til you read the review.
When the make-up is off
and we look in the mirror;
When we become doers
And not just hearers;
No longer—play acting.

I played so many parts,
I had so many hearts.
Can't tell which one is real;
Why do I play on still?
But when the curtain is down
And the house Light is on;
That is when I can see
Which one is really me.

Play acting—
Tell me who is who.
Play acting—
Won't know 'til you read the review.
When the make-up is off
and we look in the mirror;
When we become doers
And not just hearers;
Not acting.
When we put our script
Upon the shelf;
When we look at Jesus
And not ourself;
No longer—play acting.


SEVERE THOUGHTS

Valley Revisited
(Ezekiel 36:16-38)

Dry bones,
dry bones
          were all Ezekiel saw.
They had no flesh;
they had no life;
          shackled by the law.

This was Israel long ago;
          dead men's bones
                    without the tomb
                              needing the Breath of God.

Dead meat,
dead meat
          is all you have today.
There's no framework;
there's no structure;
          you've left the narrow way.

This the church we have today.
          “Weightier” things
                    left not undone
                              without the Mind of God.

Who will hear me, says the Lord,
who will do my word?
Him with whom my Spirit dwells
and him whose heart's not hard.



Look To Your House! (originally untitled, March 1985)

Feeble man,
          theorizing theology;
          cubbyhole doctrine
                    to fit your plan.
          Gaining knowledge
                    you lost the truth
          to faithless philosophy
          and science falsely called.

Oh, man of sand
                    (shifting sand)
          Look!
          For it is the faithful doer
                    doing by faith
          on the firm Foundation
                    who stands.

Burn
          the fences that divide!
Break
          down the fancy facades!
Build up strong walls
          within the fortified city
                    founded upon the solid Rock.



Against the Truth (March 20, 1985)

Twisted and torn
          perverted
          polluted

Lies! Lies! Lies!

Why do men want to take
          the simple truth
                    of God,
                    of Christ
                    our Lord
and change it into something
          ugly,
                    damnable.

Seducing spirits
          killing men's souls
                    for the sake of
                              killing men's souls.

Vengeance is mine;
I will repay,
saith
the Lord.



Statue of “Liberty”? (August 15, 1986)

There she stood in the distance,
Amidst the muck and mire;
Shrouded by the fog and smog—
I was not awe inspired.

Yet they lift her up and paint her face
To give her a “holy” glow.
What are her true desires
Her lips and feet do show.

You pledge allegiance to her,
Declaring her your god;
But soon she will be broken
By a heavy iron rod.

Return your face toward Jesus;
Restore your trust in God;
Remove your sin stained garments;
In His righteousness be garbed.



Inside Babylon

O mighty towered city,
                    your high walls
                    hide the open sky;
With cold indifference
                    you look down
                    on the common passerby.

O rich and noble city,
                    gold paved streets
                    leading to death's end;
The poor continue
                    in your sight,
                    yet you won't even lend.

O wise and knowing city,
                    brain of software,
                    heart as hard as steel;
You say there is no God,
                    deep within
                    you know that He is real.

O pious, holy city,
                    what will
                    your end be?



Submit (originally untitled, august 27, 1987)

What is this?

She that has been delivered
          should now be the deliverer?
Was not she made the weaker vessel?

Desire for independence
          has kept you distant from me;
stubbornness has secluded you.

And I am angry.

Why must you constantly persist
          in being the one to wear the pants?!
Can't you see that submission to my love
          is such sweet passion!

Oh, come to me and do not resist
          I am your husband; you are my help.
You were made for my pleasure.

Oh, how I would protect you with my laws;
          I would comfort you by the strength
of my authority! my power! my love!


SUCH AS IS COMMON TO MAN

Contemplating Sin (originally untitled, January 1986)

There is a place to
          just stand
where thoughts are most
          uncomfortable:
A motionless vacuum
          in which many pretty
          and desirable
                    things
swirl around your head,
catching your eye,
snatching at your heart.

All that need be done
          to escape
this dizzying death
is to move into
          the engulfing light.

Ah, here is the matter—
          to decide to step off
          the platform of this
          pleasurable sickness
into the knowledge
          of a death
          where the only life
can be found.



In Bondage (January 1986)

In bondage to love—
                    a need to love
                    and receive love in return.
          A bondage that separates
                    from true Love itself.

          In bondage to feelings
                              so long held
                              and so very long formed.
                    In need of a Saviour
                              to free me from self.

                    In bondage! In bondage!
                                        how to let go?
                                        how to totally spurn
                              This thing that does bind me
                                        from denying self?

                              I must be in bondage
                                                  to One who is true—
                                                  for His love I yearn.
                                        I need only to trust Him
                                                  and forsake myself.



Proverbs 18:24 (July 6, 1986)

Distant.

All alone on a Sunday night;
Trying to surrender to this inner fight;
I feel so…

Changes occurring on every side;
Separation seems to grow ever so wide.

Is it something I've said?
Is it something I've done?
Is it some sin,
Have I left my first love?

The Lord has been faithful again and again;
I need to remember that He's still the same.
Jesus is merciful,
loving,
righteous,
and true.

Draw nigh to Him, He'll draw nigh to you.





Lot's Lot (July 22, 1986)


Just like Lot
I'm daily vexed;
My righteous soul
becomes perplexed
By blatant rebellion,
Pride and lustful sin.

Yet like Lot
I daily toil,
My holy garment
becomes soiled
With ungodly spots,
Faithless fear and doubts.

I must conform
to Christ's image
And throw off
this worldly visage.
Flee from Sodom's lack!
Flee, not looking back!




Darkened Glass (originally untitled)
Titus 2:11-15

Looking in a mirror
          at an empty room
                    reflecting on the condition of my soul.

(Sounds kinda poetic, huh?)

I know that I'm a
          lonely stranger here
                    sojourning to some place that I've never seen.

(So how'd I get here in the first place?)

Moving on, moving on
          prodded and comforted
                    by the immenseness of The Living God.

(It certainty isn't U-Haul!)

Don't look in the mirror at the empty room;
          but look through darkened glass
                    to the One who's coming soon.




unstable man in midst of temptation (August 16, 1988)

precariously balanced
on the precipice of decision

blinded
(partially willingly)
with eyes wide open

teetering toward
the expansive chasm of catastrophe

almost wanting to
                                        DIVE
on the deadly desires
below
but fearing the fate
that would follow the fall
simultaneously
(though not as strong as
                    should be in such situations)
hanging on and groping for and hoping that
The Handrail will hold

And It will.

For It is firmly fixed and stable,
and holds on tighter
than It is held;
but binds only with bonds
forged by the bonded himself.



Cold Flame (March 1989)

I would that my heartstrings were cut
so as not to be blown by the slightest
breeze of Romance's breath of folly.

It seems unfair
for one to have the natural desire
burning in one's bosom
                    blistering the soul in solitude;
left vulnerable to the variant elements
                    of chance and circumstance.

Let it be swept into flames
or smothered to ashes!

The flames
          dance with life;
                    consuming,
                              energetic.
                                        Light.
                                                  Warmth.

The ashes
          lay out dead;
                    no pain,
                              still.
                                        Gray.
                                                  Cold.

This glowing ember
          only smoulders;
                    a dull,
                              throbbing
ache,
          on the verge of either extreme.

This lonely coal needs
          the fuel of a lover's heart
and the steady wind of the Spirit of God
          to ignite it into flames.

Not the illusory inferno
          of Lusty Romance
          (which subsides in a moment),
But the abiding Torch
          of Lasting Love.

The ashes have no hope.



Alone In A Dream (March 14, 1990)

It is past midnight;
          darkness has long
          taken hold.
It has gripped me;
          squeezed me;
          twisted my bones up tight.

I look past the darkness
          to a distant shore
          (it is far away
                              (or is it?))
To a vision of loveliness; of light.
          Can I see it?
          Can I hold it
                    in my heart?

Do I dare?

How pleasant it is
          in this vision—
The day is smiling; it's bright.
          (Oh, will it smile for me?)
The shoreline is simple and pure.
          Dancing is in the air.

See!
                    The birds don't care
                    for the impossibility
                    of flight.

Oh! Could it be?

I dream...

I am awake in the darkness.
Someone pull me from this sleep.


"THE SPIRIT OF MAN IS THE CANDLE OF THE LORD..."

Fragments (originally untitled)

Fragments
of broken lives
scattered
across the floor
only to be swept
away
into endless gutters.
Who
will pick up
the pieces?
Who
can make sense
of the confusion
we allow
ourselves
in?

Only He
who
has walked
these roads
can gather
the remnants,
unraveling
the confusion;
forming
new lives
when
we allow
Him
to.



Paradox (August 15, 1986)

The sun was shining
in the rain;
Reflecting joy
within the pain.

Take up your cross
and die to "me";
And you shall live
eternally.

Humble yourself
God will exalt;
Stand still and wait
with Christ you'll walk.

To God's law you must
be bound;
And you will find
where freedom's found.



Journey To An Oasis

Passing through a barren land
O'er wavy dunes of salty sand
Parch'd by the blazing sun
Weary and worn, no where to turn.
I thirst.

'Cross the steaming plain I see
A vision of an isle; of trees.
Tis this true that I see there?
It helps me none to just stare.
I search.

A well of water find I here
A river flowing crystal clear
Wondrous trees of fruit abound
A place of rest; my soul resounds!
Rebirth.



He Is Giving

He's given me friends and a family,
His grace, His comfort, His rest;
All this and more He's given to me,
You see I've truly been blessed.

What more could He possibly give me,
He's given all that there is;
His life, His love and His mercy,
The knowledge of knowing I'm His.

So why should I ask for anything more,
What more could He possibly give?
I pray that He will open more doors
So that others, like me, might live.



The Worth of a Bird (May 18, 1986)

I saw a sparrow
fall today
with not
my eyes alone.
I felt the pain
my Father feels
when one of these
has fallen.
He tells us that
He loves us more
and carefully
watches us.
This is love
unfeigned and real
and not
poetic lust.



Habitation of God (originally untitled, June 1987)

God is not pleased to dwell
          in buildings of brick and stone
                    which are made from the sands
                              of the earth.
For He has created finer and grander
          sanctuaries in the forests
                    and mountains and seas,
                              which are carved from nothing.
Though these are more suitable
          (and the heavens far more so)
                    the Lord longs to dwell
                              in the stillness of the soul of man.
It is there that He desires to build
          a beautiful and holy habitation
                    designed for His pleasure
                              that His name be known.



Mouths of Babes

Daddy?
are there still angels
and do they
still help people
and do what God says?

          And Daddy
          does God still
          talk to people?
          Sometimes
          I talk to Jesus.
          Sometimes…I don't.

                    When I grow up,
                    I want to be
                    just
                    like
                    Jesus.



…And There Was Light

Narrow bands of amber
stretching forth
from behind puffy silhouettes of clouds,
pushing back
the night blue skies.
Beneath,
a shattered reflection of the same
spread across
the broken blackness of the sea.



The Choice (November 1987)

You cannot choose to choose,
the choice has been chosen as yours:
to choose not to choose
in itself is a choice.

So choose you this day
the choice you will choose—
to be chosen or
chosen to lose.


DEDICATED TO:

You—Why Me
To Roger Armstrong: A good friend and brother in the Navy

You lift me up
when I'm feeling down.
You give me a smile
when I'm wearing a frown.
You let me know
that Love's still around.

You always remind me
that I'm not all that smart.
When I want to stop
you make me start.
You write the songs
that go deep in my heart.

The Love that you give
I can't understand;
For someone like me
I can't comprehend.
We're always together
forever—Amen.



If I Never See You Again
(memories toward the future)
for Kingdom Ministries

"Iron sharpens iron"
Grandma's love is everywhere
restless nights; sleeping days
another knock on the door
in the middle of the night
don't forget the chess game craze
broccoli
I cannot live with that person
first or second shift
through the strife and gossip and discontent
I see Jesus in you
why did some turn and go?
the years have come and went
Chuck
"Crap or get off the pot!"
"I LOVE YOU, JESUS!!!"
broken strings and prophesying
"The devil is a bone-breath."
One, Two or Three
broken hearts and poetry writing
The Purge of '85
it Never Gets Cold
with the Razor Strap Waltz
Mylon, David, Danny, Lenny
depression, submission
rebellion, commitment
Bro. Stair, Bro. Den, Bro. Bruce, Bro. Ely
Love Lines
Best hamburger in town
sidewalks are cold
more work, more pain
how many radio shows?
need to pack groceries
more tears, more gain
the garage
hymns for a hangover
button, button, who's got the buttons
dead horses at family meetings
Friday night to Tuesday night
Givhan's State Park
Alex's is where the gates are meeting
The Time Machine
is picking your nose a sin?
Last Days in America
CO does not stand for commanding officer
speaking in tongues
I Timothy 3:16; I John 5:7; Colossians 2:9; etc.
Just one last verse.

"That's right, bubba. That's right."



Honeysuckle Morning
A poem for Grandma Gatrelle

The morning mist
          rests upon the treetops,
                    its tender dew
          left clinging to each blade of grass.
Already the sparrows and field mice
          are gathered about the lawn
          seeking an early meal.
And the honeysuckle
          that blankets the background
                    shares its fragrance
          with them that love the new day;
the day the Lord has given.



The Canary (July 17, 1988)
A poem for Vinnie Pascalino

I feel alone
          and confused...
                    going from one massive head-trip
to another.
Where is the love? Oh, where is the love?

          Once upon a noonday dreary,
                    while I wondered weak and weary,
          What to my wondering eyes should appear…
          But a canary!

          He certainly wasn't much to look at.
                    His dull feathers reflected
                              my melancholy mood.
          But when he burst into song
                    the Light shone in his eyes…
                              and we laughed.

          So I took him
                    and put him
                              in a cage.
          (But canaries should be free;
                    they don't belong in a cage
                              (or a box for that matter).)

          Then one night when the moon was bright,
                    the canary
                              flew away.

I'm glad the canary was here.
          I'll miss the canary.
I hope the Light
          stays in his eyes…

and maybe the song
          will burst elsewhere.

Where is the love? Oh, where is the love?
God is love.
Where two or more are gathered in my name.





Sharp Truth

I've come to the conclusion
that my happy delusions
are more of a fatality
than the pain of reality.





"For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart."
Hebrews 4:12, KJV

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