Holy Holy Holy, Lord God Almighty!
Even from the depths of sin my song shall rise to Thee;
There is a sign at the sight of Thee, merciful and mighty!
God in three persons, blessed Trinity!
Holy Holy Holy, I can see your beauty;
In the works you've made on earth, the heavens and the sea!
There is a sign at the sight of Thee, great is your majesty!
Perfect in power, in love and purity.
Holy Holy Holy, sin cannot veil thee
Though all mankind looks away, Thy glory sets us free!
Only thou art holy, there is none beside Thee,
Grace that redeems us, blessed Trinity!
Holy Holy Holy, Lord God Almighty!
Peace will follow with you when your Kingdom comes to be!
There is a sign at the sight of Thee, there is none beside Thee,
God in three persons, blessed Trinity!
(Adapted from original by: Reginald Heber)
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Bird Brain
I don't really know what phase I'm in
I'm not that concerned with much right now
Not trying to get my life back, I'll revel in this broken-heartedness
But what's a broken heart?
Is it broken like a wristwatch?
More like Humpty Dumpty
I'm the vision of an egg-shell man with a fetish for heights, and worst of all, no balance
My trouble is that I've fallen into such disrepair that I fear for my life
By the time I finalize this wretched reassembly, I'll be close to spoiling and not much use to anyone
Would I explain this to the solemn finches and sparrows who absentmindedly peck around my waste?
No
It would do me little good, so I mumble to myself with a similar effect
I see the same world with my eyes shut, so I keep them that way
In my foolish musings all that was "you" becomes all that is "her"
Maybe that's the next step
Either way, I hesitate to take steps, as each one brings a different kind of brokenness
So now it's "I miss her" on my brow
A resigned version of "I miss you"
A cease to the pleading coupled with an onset of dreary droopiness
Altogether unatractive I'm sure, indicative of the one how makes himself unlovable by believing it so
In this state, I'll pile up words like money-grubbing Scrooge and take no holiday
A bird sits on my table at home, and I'm able-bodied enough to carve an ostrich
But there's no will behind that knife
No knowledge of raptor anatomy or bravery to take risks
When I do open my eyes, I'm watchful
I see every scurrying beast on the forest floor, but when I catch their scent, I turn up my beak
My call is ironic; "Who?"
It is at night when I ask this
My fowl nature turns ever more sour
Bitterness glows on the horizon and I twist my neck at these new flavors
Earthbound with clipped wings, I trudge familiar paths and take what comes down from park benches
My dreams are bled by buckshot, clenched tight in a dog's mouth
I take off my cap, sit back and enjoy my blackened trigger finger food
Who I am in this story depends on who you ask, and ultimately fades from importance
Who she was remains a mystery, scattered by the wind
What pieces we took from each other start to whither
Neglected fledglings all, they cry out, beyond pacification
I take a little time to hunt for their meal, but no regurgitation seems to satisfy them
Their spines bend with sickness and a coming death
Who knows what brave birds these little ones would have become?
What unfathomable heights would be cut by their wings in the vast blue?
A mirror of a lake stretches beyond expert comprehension
Disruptive ripples emerge from a central floating figure
Ruffled and lifeless, this omen bobs a message
If my heart has ever been lifted by the story of the phoenix
It is now ever sunk at the sight of it;
This dead duck
I'm not that concerned with much right now
Not trying to get my life back, I'll revel in this broken-heartedness
But what's a broken heart?
Is it broken like a wristwatch?
More like Humpty Dumpty
I'm the vision of an egg-shell man with a fetish for heights, and worst of all, no balance
My trouble is that I've fallen into such disrepair that I fear for my life
By the time I finalize this wretched reassembly, I'll be close to spoiling and not much use to anyone
Would I explain this to the solemn finches and sparrows who absentmindedly peck around my waste?
No
It would do me little good, so I mumble to myself with a similar effect
I see the same world with my eyes shut, so I keep them that way
In my foolish musings all that was "you" becomes all that is "her"
Maybe that's the next step
Either way, I hesitate to take steps, as each one brings a different kind of brokenness
So now it's "I miss her" on my brow
A resigned version of "I miss you"
A cease to the pleading coupled with an onset of dreary droopiness
Altogether unatractive I'm sure, indicative of the one how makes himself unlovable by believing it so
In this state, I'll pile up words like money-grubbing Scrooge and take no holiday
A bird sits on my table at home, and I'm able-bodied enough to carve an ostrich
But there's no will behind that knife
No knowledge of raptor anatomy or bravery to take risks
When I do open my eyes, I'm watchful
I see every scurrying beast on the forest floor, but when I catch their scent, I turn up my beak
My call is ironic; "Who?"
It is at night when I ask this
My fowl nature turns ever more sour
Bitterness glows on the horizon and I twist my neck at these new flavors
Earthbound with clipped wings, I trudge familiar paths and take what comes down from park benches
My dreams are bled by buckshot, clenched tight in a dog's mouth
I take off my cap, sit back and enjoy my blackened trigger finger food
Who I am in this story depends on who you ask, and ultimately fades from importance
Who she was remains a mystery, scattered by the wind
What pieces we took from each other start to whither
Neglected fledglings all, they cry out, beyond pacification
I take a little time to hunt for their meal, but no regurgitation seems to satisfy them
Their spines bend with sickness and a coming death
Who knows what brave birds these little ones would have become?
What unfathomable heights would be cut by their wings in the vast blue?
A mirror of a lake stretches beyond expert comprehension
Disruptive ripples emerge from a central floating figure
Ruffled and lifeless, this omen bobs a message
If my heart has ever been lifted by the story of the phoenix
It is now ever sunk at the sight of it;
This dead duck
Dead Duck
This dead duck was hers and mine
caught off guard by a fleeting arrow
Flung from nowhere, drawn in
creating sorrow
"Tomorrow is another day", they
say without a reading
Eating vegetables on Thanksgiving 'cause
the turkey here is bleeding
If our paths had crossed this holiday,
why we'd by having duck
Fleshing out lines of forgiveness,
biting till our teeth got stuck
Struck forever dumb,
I watch your raft float ever farther
Your back is turned, and so I've learned
the lesson of my father:
Bother not with thoughts of jealousy
for they will slow you down
Find a new hope built in happiness
and throw aside your frown
Drown not in tears of sorrow,
look at what life you have left
It's a lot, so thank your maker
He has taken all the heft
Brought upon by guilty burden
and sustained by youthful lust
Learn to focus on what matters
and in Jesus place your trust
So I nod my head and tie my shoes
and start off down the road
Slowed by nothing but my vices,
carrying a lighter load
As I spin the globe beneath me,
I see V-shapes in the air
Heading south for warmer places,
knowing not what will be there
In this I'm the bird that migrates
I know I can't change the weather
Whether promises mean anything,
I mean to live them better
Fetters broken, doors flung open,
I learned that lesson to the letter
"Later" is what I was hoping for,
but I know that "Now" is better
caught off guard by a fleeting arrow
Flung from nowhere, drawn in
creating sorrow
"Tomorrow is another day", they
say without a reading
Eating vegetables on Thanksgiving 'cause
the turkey here is bleeding
If our paths had crossed this holiday,
why we'd by having duck
Fleshing out lines of forgiveness,
biting till our teeth got stuck
Struck forever dumb,
I watch your raft float ever farther
Your back is turned, and so I've learned
the lesson of my father:
Bother not with thoughts of jealousy
for they will slow you down
Find a new hope built in happiness
and throw aside your frown
Drown not in tears of sorrow,
look at what life you have left
It's a lot, so thank your maker
He has taken all the heft
Brought upon by guilty burden
and sustained by youthful lust
Learn to focus on what matters
and in Jesus place your trust
So I nod my head and tie my shoes
and start off down the road
Slowed by nothing but my vices,
carrying a lighter load
As I spin the globe beneath me,
I see V-shapes in the air
Heading south for warmer places,
knowing not what will be there
In this I'm the bird that migrates
I know I can't change the weather
Whether promises mean anything,
I mean to live them better
Fetters broken, doors flung open,
I learned that lesson to the letter
"Later" is what I was hoping for,
but I know that "Now" is better
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Boys and Girls
Boys and girls are teams
They each represent sets of attitudes and stigmas
Little girls are not made of stardust and rainbows
Little boys are not made of sawdust and chicken wire
They are flesh, they are blood, and they are hurting all the same
Untangle the weeds from your hair and stop calling them flowers
Pull the plank out of your eye and give the other team a hand
Love is universal, but rarely crosses gender picket lines
Give it time and it will realize the futility of stationary status
Love divine is strictly blind, but sickly binded by our mindstate
Left alone, patient and prostrate love is waiting for its chance
Here we worship graven images of love expressed in sin
All the while depressed within and eager,
Frantically scanning every landscapegoat grazing field
Eyeing out our match
The one we'll dump all of our problems on
And they will do the same
Till there's left no one to blame
And we'll justify our shame
One day we'll make our contributions to these big-blaspheming teams
Injecting worries dressed as dreams
Our partnership set sail, away from the son
Throwing up a bare-masted rebellion to the only one who ever loved you...
Starlight twinkles behind the summer air
But up close it's manufactured fare
Faries play in the field, kicking up dew
But they were screwed together too
By a child's calloused hands
How dare we fancy magic in a world as cold as steel
Hunger, death, and desperation are becoming what is real
Don't you claim to war against them, frollicking among the cure
Pure motivation of want drives us forward past the poor ones
Blotting them out
We're not boys and girls on this earth
We're dead and dying
They each represent sets of attitudes and stigmas
Little girls are not made of stardust and rainbows
Little boys are not made of sawdust and chicken wire
They are flesh, they are blood, and they are hurting all the same
Untangle the weeds from your hair and stop calling them flowers
Pull the plank out of your eye and give the other team a hand
Love is universal, but rarely crosses gender picket lines
Give it time and it will realize the futility of stationary status
Love divine is strictly blind, but sickly binded by our mindstate
Left alone, patient and prostrate love is waiting for its chance
Here we worship graven images of love expressed in sin
All the while depressed within and eager,
Frantically scanning every landscapegoat grazing field
Eyeing out our match
The one we'll dump all of our problems on
And they will do the same
Till there's left no one to blame
And we'll justify our shame
One day we'll make our contributions to these big-blaspheming teams
Injecting worries dressed as dreams
Our partnership set sail, away from the son
Throwing up a bare-masted rebellion to the only one who ever loved you...
Starlight twinkles behind the summer air
But up close it's manufactured fare
Faries play in the field, kicking up dew
But they were screwed together too
By a child's calloused hands
How dare we fancy magic in a world as cold as steel
Hunger, death, and desperation are becoming what is real
Don't you claim to war against them, frollicking among the cure
Pure motivation of want drives us forward past the poor ones
Blotting them out
We're not boys and girls on this earth
We're dead and dying
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