Brand of God

If there's a confidence that rises up
Within the heart of he who speaks of truth,
The cause is that the one who has held fast
To what he thinks to know has raised him up

From depths of dungeons where he was enslaved
By forces that unnamed had tied him down
With chains to stones on wet and and icy floors,
Where love could never grow nor faith endure.

What pride now lifts such one to fresher breaths
Where sun can warm the face and and fill the heart
With grace and peace and hope and faith and love?

Tell not this man that God is different from
The one who raised his soul up from the pit,
Nor move the gift of thanks far from his lips.

Choice

Life after life,
Death after death,
Blood after blood,
Breath after breath.

Life without death,
Death without life,
Blood without pain,
Breath without strife.

Light after dark,
Dark after light
Life after death,
Death after life.

Choose which you'll have,
Life and death come,
God gives you both:
Let go of one.

Son of David

Beloved of God, in whom do you trust?
But in He who first loved you, and no other you must.
For the one who loved first will continue through last,
When the love of all others has grown pale as the grass.

O shepherd of lambs, each led safe to the knife
By your rod and your staff at the end of its life.
Drinking wine from the rivers, eating bread from the clay,
Humbly following the shepherd to the end of its day.

How this love and compassion to the pain of death leads,
On a road dark and narrow, where the fainting heart bleeds.
O, Beloved of God, where's this pasture you know,
Where our bleating will cease, where our sorrows will go?

Protect us from wolves, for we weren't made for food
To be given to dogs, or by jackals be chewed.
Guard our haunches from grizzlies, and from lions make way
Toward the wide open pastures, to green fields thick with hay.

Beloved, Good Shepherd, who lays down with his flock,
Your bed with the foxes, your pillow a rock,
Teach us now how to love you, though you lead us to die,
For in living you love us, and love still by the by.

Are we graceless as mutton? Are we no more than food?
Does our skin make your garments? Does our faith change your mood?
Tell me why, goodly shepherd, you have led us through fear,
To the gates of the slaughter, to a bed on a bier.

O, but in love, my good shepherd,
You have taught me to trust,
For in living I've known it,
And what follows, it must.

You Are Not You

You are not skin.
You are not bone.
You are not blood.
You are not home.

In skin you feel.
On bone you move.
With blood this flesh
Will carry you.

Cut off your legs,
And you're still here.
Gouge out your eyes,
You still appear.

The heart that pumps
Can be replaced
By monkey meat
Or plastic case.

The brain entombed
Within your head
Is no more you
Than swallowed bread.

All these are tools,
Skin, blood, and brain,
To carry you
Upon this plane

Of human life
For spirit made
Until from here
You will be saved.

Take off your skin,
Let blood be spilled,
Then you will see
You can't be killed.

But live in hell,
And cry for flesh
To save you from
Your wretchedness,

For body comforts
Soul from sin.
The blood atones
For selfish men

Who dwell as sprites
In jars of clay,
And fill themselves
Until that day,

They are spilled out
Upon the ground,
Where fearful then,
Their selves unbound

Are drawn apart,
And uncontained,
Consumed by those
The earth has stained

With murder, rage,
And violence,
Where fear doth reign
With insolence,

For God hath given
Fear to dwell
Upon the earth,
Enchained by hell.

And you're sent, too,
Just as his Son,
To dwell with fear
Till work is done.

Take up the shovel
And the hoe,
In hell plant love
Where it may grow,

And when these bodies
Rise from dust,
The spirits here
In love will trust,

Then return arms
And legs to soil,
To be raised up
For future toil.

Until the next sprite
Takes its place,
In chariots
Of flesh doth race,

Upon the face
Of earth until
Its tabernacle's
Blood is spilled,

And spirit there,
That raised in love,
Ascends from hell,
To heaven above.

You're not the you
You think you are.
The you that's you
Is in your heart.

Not heart of meat
That beats and pumps
The blood of life
Straight through your lungs,

But heart of soul
That can't be killed,
The heart that is
When body stills,

And heartbeat slows,
And breathing stops,
The you remains
Though body rots.

Eschaton

As Jordan descends
To the sea where it ends
As it falls from the spring
To death,

The Word of God speaks
From the heavens above
To pass through all people
In breath.

At the slap of his butt
The baby doth cry
To exchange for the water
His wind,

For the Spirit of God
Still descends unto man
Flowing endlessly onward
Toward sin.

From the springs of the earth
Does the Jordan descend
To the shores of the living
Dead Sea.

Where the body floats upward,
As on that Holy Day
When the Spirit arises
In me.

Blake Chamness Looks into the Face of God

Into the vacuous void the voice of God

Spread out a canvas onto which he placed

A billion billion billion billion stars

Throughout a universe that man calls space.

Into the vacuous void the voice of God

Spreads out his canvas in the minds of man

A billion billion billion billion thoughts

That seek an end to that which God began.

How does the light that falls upon this paint

Undo the deepest black with holy white,

And all the rainbow pass within its course

Without unveiling all that’s seen and is 

Made manifest within the mind thereby

And bring forth from this nothing something saint?

Fin de siècle

It all changes,
And nobody cares,
Except

Les enfants terribles,

Who are having fun,
Still,

Learning

How things
Never change.

Prepare the Way of the LORD

When Gabriel did meet Israel's priest
To summon from his loin obedience,
The priest in sad reply confessed to sin:
"How shall I know that what you say is true?"

Still veiled within the Glory of the LORD
Was Zacharias stricken to be mute,
And thereby given no glad speech to pass
The testament of what the LORD had spoke.

Without the host of Israel did wait
To hear a message from the Lord of Hosts,
But in one deed alone the priest could be
Faithful still to God, to plant a seed.

Who hears now what the LORD has spoke to be,
And kept his faith still wrapped in flesh of doubt?

Goel

Brother, Christ, avenge me!
Take back what once was mine!
Deliver it from Satan's grasp,
And I will make it Thine!

Seek out the foe that wronged me!
Pursue him to the gate!
Unlock him from his prison cell,
And wrest from him his hate!

Oh, Christ, the Blood of Abel
Doth cry out from the ground!
Hear selfsame plea outpoured in me
And seal this seeping wound!

My Kinsman, my Redeemer,
Inheritance I've lost!
The thief has stolen all that I
Had purchased at high cost!

Unsheathe your sword from scabbard!
Draw high your holy blade!
Destroy the villain who has kept
My treasures in his cave!

Yeshua, my salvation!
Go back now to the grave!
Lie down again in death, wherein,
My children, too, you save!

There's Only One Way Out of Here

There's only one way out of here:
It's six feet in the ground.
There's just one way to free your self:
To body it be bound.

To grow into a larger you,
The self you must entomb
In rock and dirt, where earth did spring
The first you from its womb.

Into what plant will your seed grow
When you give up your bean?
Let Christ arise out of the tomb
Within you and be seen.

Look there, you'll see it when you're dead,
For you will never die.
But only breathe with different breath
And see with different eye.

There is no fear, so cling not to
This seed where now you dwell,
But put your germ where it may grow
And so escape from hell.

On Death & Friends

If I had kept my lies,
I would not now be free,
But when I told the truth,
My friends took leave of me.

If I had not spoke out,
I'd speak now from the grave,
And tearful friends reply:
"If we had known, we'd save

You from your lonesome way,
But now, alas, you're dead,
For sin has took your life!
Now nothing can be said!"

But since they know the truth,
They treat me as I'm dead,
But truth has set me free
From fickle friends who'd said

That anything they'd do
To save a wretch like me,
But they compare not to
The One who set me free.

For now I want to live,
And I have will to do,
So freely I do live,
But without friends like you.

Reproach

When you suffer reproach,
You do so to stand again in proachfulness,
For you can not be proached upon, again,
Without you were proached before.
But like a good fool you wandered
Toward a something not known,
Shiny and alluring and almost certainly expensive,
And as you stood there beneath the wantonness of plastic
You heard a sound as of your mother's voice,
And behold, her face, mouth corners turned down, looked upon you as if to say,
"Draw near to me, and do not go so far again."

So, you return, eyes down, head down, shoulders down,
And walk fifteen paces back
Where skirtside you waltz among tomatoes and cereal boxes
Through the grocer's aisle,
Where one who cares for you unyielding
Puts food into your cart.

Note to Self

If you make it this far,
You had as much time
As the Reverend
Martin Luther King,
J-R.

If the Lord wills it,
You will have as much time
As you need
To do precisely as much
As obedience allows.

Thingamajugs

A billionaire venture capitalist started a company that specialized in the production of thingamajugs. The company grew quickly, and the bossman hired a president to oversee the operations so that he could retire to his beach home in Tahiti.

When the new president took control of operations, he felt it necessary to maximize his own profit, forgetting that bossman's primary concern was his own profit, which the bossman insisted come from the production of lots and lots of thingamajugs. But the new president thought the boss's system was kind of stupid because there were many ways to make profits without making more thingamajugs. So, instead of doing the work that he was hired to do (make thingamajugs), the new president focused upon building wealth for himself, reasoning that a boss who was too stupid to see how easy it is to make profits would be delighted at the profits he could easily make.

He said, "Bossman is in Tahiti, and he has left me here in charge of the company. I will reduce the wages of the laborers to create more profits, then I will keep the surplus profits for myself and pass on the normal profits to the bossman, and nobody will ever be the wiser."

The president grew wealthier by this scheme, and he reasoned to himself that there must be other ways to create more profits for himself. Besides, he wanted to retire a beach home he was creating for himself, too. So the president hired six managers to oversee the workers and build more profits. He said to his managers, "See to it that you maximize your profits. It doesn't matter whether or not we make more thingamajugs as long as we continue to increase profits. Devise any way you can, and I will share with you a portion of the profits."

The first manager looked at the thingamajug designed by the billionaire bossman and reasoned that profits could be increased by making new and improved thingamajugs from cheaper materials.

Though the hourly wage of labors were set by law, the second manager reasoned that the hours of the laborers could be reduced by one-eighth. Still, he demanded that the laborers continue to produce the same number of thingamajugs in their daily shifts if they wanted to keep their jobs.

The third manager saw that the company was spending a lot of money by giving free food to the laborers and demanded that the laborers to bring their own lunches with them to work.

The fourth manager questioned why the laborers were given a day of rest each week, so he created another day of work.

The fifth manager thought that the company was spending too much of their profits on heating and air-conditioning, so he instructed that the thermostat be set five degrees warmer in the summer and five degrees cooler in the winter.

The sixth manager, who was the smartest of all the managers, reasoned that he did not need to make any changes, but that he would take the bossman's profits and invest them in other companies, keeping the interest on the profits for himself.

After a time, bossman returned to the thingamajug factory to see how the things were going.

"Where is the president that I left in charge?" bossman asked.

"He is not here, bossman," replied one of the managers. "He has left us here to oversee your operations, and we have made many changes that we are sure will make you happy. Here, take these profits that we have made for you. See? We have made ourselves rich, but we still have made a profit for you, too."

The first manager said, "Look, bossman, I have made a better thingamajug. This one is cheaper and increases our profits!"

The second manager said, "Consider this, bossman, I have been strict in discipline, and your workers produce the same number of thingamajugs even though I have reduced their hours!"

The third manager said, "I have proved my worth, bossman, for there is no law that says we must spend our profits to feed our workers!"

The fourth manager said, "See how I have increased profits by adding 52 days of labor each year, bossman!"

The fifth manager said, "How much comfort do our laborers need, bossman? For I have made our company more profitable by cutting expenses!"

The sixth manager said, "I am better than all of these, bossman, for I have increased profits without making a single change!"

But bossman saw the wickedness of these managers and replied, "Who are you to keep profits for yourselves? Who has made you the lord of your wages. Now give me all that you have earned, and I will decide your reward."

To the first manager he said, "You are a worthless man. You have made thingamajugs in your own image, and they reflect your value. I created the thingamajug, and you have dishonored my reputation. You are fired this instant!  Be gone!"

To the second manager he said, "You who have disciplined my workers, learn discipline from me! A manager who treats his workers with contempt will be met with contempt, and you have raised my contempt! You are fired this instant. Be gone!"

To the third manager he said, "How is it that you set feasts upon your own table from the profits of my investment, but you starve the workers in my factory? Wicked man, you are fired this instant! Be gone!"

To the fourth manager he said, "Why is it that you rest and your laborers do not? Who are you to decide who sleeps and who does not? Take your rest from my presence this instant, and find sleep with no work to do in my company! Be gone!"

To the fifth manager he said, "Look, I am a mightier boss than you, and I find you too comfortable in my presence. I have made my dwelling comfortable, and my workers will work in comfort. Go from here this instant! You have no place in my company! Be gone!"

To the sixth manager he said, "You are most wicked of all, for you who has been hired to work have done no work at all. You have taken what is mine and risked to lose it. Who will pay for my losses? Will you recover my profits from thin air? Be gone, you wicked man!"

Finally, the bossman called for the president he had left in charge, and the president was brought before the bossman.

"You foolish man!" the bossman exclaimed. "Here I set you to watch over my thingamajug factory, and I left you to oversee the work that I began. Who are you to presume to know what I have wanted from you? Why did you think that you could conceal these profits from me? Did you think that I had raised you up and would not reward you from the profits of my company? But look, you have kept profits for yourself and you have not given them to me, to whom they belong. Did you start this company? Did you invent the thingamajug? And why have you robbed my laborers of the wages I promised them? Do you know me so well to know that I want only profits? Wicked fool, depart from me! You have taken what does not belong to you, and you have schemed with these six fools to rob both your bossman and his laborers! Here I am taking all of your profits and giving them to the laborers that I left under your charge. Let them be the judges of your fate!"

Elijah James

Be patient for the coming of the Lord;
See how the farmer waits for precious grain.
So will the harvest come as we've been told
When heaven's blessings burst from worldly pain.

Let those opposed by time submit to prayer
While rooted in this dirt clod we call earth,
For in another day or month or year
The body here will die as spirit births.

Here fall down into rot both stump and limb
Where worms and maggots on the flesh do feast
And chew the corpse into the sodden plains.

Meanwhile the fruits of you to God ascend
In chariot pulled by Elijah's beasts
Who prayed that God release the latter rains.

This Is My Body

All you have is just the Lord's
Who gives it all to you.
The only thing you do not have
Is what you hold onto.

Give up your life and get it back:
You did not have it first,
For he who will his body save
Will find it in a hearse.

What is that in your pocket held,
A minted coin of gold?
Where were you when the Lord did weld
The metals of this world?

Who put the life into your breath?
Who pumps your living blood?
Who put that roof above your head?
Who grew your house of wood?

Make cotton grow out from the ground.
Make water feed your flax.
Make oil spring from Puget Sound.
Make honeybees make wax.

Give all you have unto the Lord,
For he gives all to you.
You have nothing to give nor take,
For all just passes through.

The food you take into your mouth
Soon passes back to dust.
For all that follows life obeys
The Lord, as all things must.

Give back unto the Lord all things
That he has give to you.
For what you have is old, but now
The Lord makes all things new.

For never did a child say
At mother's nursing breast:
"I'll keep your milk a hundred years
Stored in my treasure chest."

But mother gives unto the babe,
And through him passes through,
The milk that makes his heart to grow,
Legs, arms, and fingers, too.

She gives her milk, a daily gift,
And does not ask it back.
For pleasure to the mother is:
Her infant nothing lacks.

But each new day the babe calls out
And asks his mom for more,
So daily does the mother feed
Her child from her store.

So, too, a man who grown to full
Must cry out to the Lord,
Who feeds all of his children from
The storehouse of his world.

But do not hold onto the gifts
The Lord does give to you,
For each new day the Lord intends
To give his gifts anew.

There is no thing that you now have
That you can keep till death:
But only this: your beating heart,
And this: your very breath.

Still these things, too, must cease before
You more from him receive.
So learn to give your blood and breath
To him, and then believe

That all you have he gives to you;
His gifts will never end,
So let go of the gifts he gives
And trust him to begin

New works each day, new works each hour,
New works each passing year.
The God of Life, the God of Love
Has conquered death and fear.

For God above is just the Lord
Of life and knows not death.
He needs no heart to pump your blood,
Nor lung to breathe your breath.

For life lives not in blood and breath
But in the will of God
Who wills that all his children live
And never sleep in sod.

There is no thing that you can keep
The Lord has given you,
But only this: Himself he gives
In daily bread, anew.

Tiny Lips

I drank the stale coffee
To taste the red lipstick
Your lips had left there on the rim.

The creamer had sweetened
The black and the bitter
That turned your thoughts poorly on him.

The mug had cooled down on
The top of the bookshelf
Since you'd walked out the room.

But, o the sweet taste of
The lips that had kissed it
Still lingered there like a perfume!

Zecharia Sitchin

What's to contemplate,
The past,
Gilgamesh,
Baalbec?

What's to divine,
The future,
Annunaki,
Megiddo?

What's the matter,
The present,
Illuminati,
Area 51?

Think about this:
Death?

Think about this:
Life?

Who told you you were naked?

I Do Be

With these two words,
I do, I do
Profess that I
Be joined with you.

With these two rings
You and I wear,
Our hands are bound
Into one pair.

With these two lips
That to you speak,
I'll place a kiss
Upon your cheek.

With these two arms
That you enclose,
I'll hold you close
And not let go.

With these two hearts
Now knit as one
We'll join two loves
Not soon undone,

With every beat,
With every breath,
To live in love
Until our death.

But, baby, we
Too wisely know,
That weeds in every
Garden grow,

So take this pledge
And with me strive,
To keep our love
Each day alive.

Till then, please trust
These words, my dear,
For with this love
We conquer fear.

Let these two ones
United be
And live no more
As you and me,

For these two ones
Are one, not two.
For you are me,
And I am you.

Aperion: There Is No End

Or, Life (Death) in A Nursing Home

To broken hips,
Or crud sealed lips,
To vacant eyes,
Who within lies
A spirit lost
Amid daily cost
Of person paid
Or one off laid.

Aperion! Aperion!
There is no end, Aperion!
To all the things life sucks from death!
To all the gold exhaled from breath!

A person, dross,
A life, no cost.
A hearse, reprieve,
To soul unseen,
Who sits alone
Within her home
With dozens who
Sit with her, too.

Aperion! Aperion!
There is no end, Aperion!
To all the things life sucks from death!
To all the gold exhaled from breath!

To profit from
A life that's done,
Almost, at least,
For soon will cease
The life and breath,
For him near death
The gold will last,
Past spirit passed

The Pearly Gates,
For body baits
The worm to chew
Upon a stew
Of flesh and blood
Till flame and flood
Make gold again
For wicked men

To tread and trade
Till all is made
To look upon
The Holy Throne
When all at last
Was will and past,
And die is live
And curse forgive.

Aperion! Aperion!
There is no end, Aperion!
To all the things life sucks from death!
To all the gold exhaled from breath!

Aperion,
Thy will be done
For now, today,
But 'morrow stays.
For life is life,
And never ends;
When breath shall end,
New breath begins.

Aperion! Aperion!
There is no end, Aperion!
To all the things life sucks from death!
To all the gold exhaled from breath!

Today the milk
From cups is spilt,
Poured one by one
And cold undone,
For routine changed
By crows who reign
On holy trees
By State's decree.

Aperion! Aperion!
There is no end, Aperion!
To all the things life sucks from death!
To all the gold exhaled from breath!

And now it comes,
Their lives are done,
No call no show
They're dead and so
The Living's foe
Can end their show
Of caring that
They even know

That this old man
Now old, once young,
With friends, career
And song unsung,
With no kin left,
Does pray for death,
And marches through
The hall where to

He finds the bed
Where he will wed
His spirit to
The Lord of Dead,
And there release
(Though body ceased)
His spirit to
The Lord who bled

Young boy, now old,
In Aperion's hold,
Don't wait for top
Of morning's cold,
But march into
The Love you knew
At mother's breast
Who first you blessed.

Aperion! Aperion!
There is no end, Aperion!
To all the things life sucks from death!
To all the gold exhaled from breath!

Your father, too,
Will wait for you
There by the Lord
Who can afford
To pay for care
For every hair
Upon your head
He counts, though dead.

Your spirit fled
From body, dead;
Your emptied ghost
From corporal host
Is free, so run
Into the sun.
Aperion's end
Is now your friend.

Open Letter to the World

for Two Shoes

If Jesus Christ be but a myth,
Then let him be the only one worth telling:

That man is spirit,
From spirit come,
To spirit go,
And death be a lesser myth
Than He

That was in the beginning,
And in the end,
And Is now.

Lorraine

Hey!

Wake up!

You should be paying attention!

Who is Jesus?

Who is Lorraine!

Who matters?

You?

Do you care?

Someone does.

Declaration of Interdependence

Speak, and listen,
For he who listens first spoke,
Into the void
To us;
For to those to whom he calls
He listens
For an answer,
Like the howling of a coyote across a dark horizon,
Beneath a full-lit moon,
Or a bell that summons to the congregation
A heavenly host of spirits incarnate.

Who speaks without listening?
Who calls and expects no reply?

Can creation withhold response,
Or the leaf refuse the sun?

Giza

The mystery of the pyramids
That rise above the Nile
Is this:

That we have no better message,
Nor greater will to leave it

Than our fathers,
We, sons.

How do we leave a message
For those who follow us
More clear?

Our universe is ending,
And it always is:

We are present,
Here, now.

The God of all creation
Who summons us to live
Will be.

There is no other message,
Nor any way to leave it

Than by fathers
To sons.

Who ever saw a mountain
Built by an ancient hand

And hoped?

Look up to higher mountains

And down more regal valleys.

Of death,

And live.

Children of God

Be not dismayed by what He does:
He does not do to you.
But in all things reveals his grace,
And He will pull you through
Whatever pain, sadness, and tears
That fall upon your soul,
Until the Lamb of God reveals
That he has made you whole.

Be not dismayed by what will come,
But hope in what will follow.
For all who hope in God will learn
That their hope is not hollow,
For God has filled their emptiness
With a spirit that is strong,
That holds you up when you fall down,
For you to Him belong.

Be not dismayed by what men say,
Nor by what men will do.
For nothing that a man has done
Can ever conquer you.
For you are bought by God's own hand
And He will guide you thorough
Whatever trouble men will bring,
For they can't trouble you.

Be not dismayed, my little ones,
And do not start to fear.
There is no pain that you will bear
Nor sadness born through tears
That is not known by Holy Ghost
Who sits with God above,
And calls to you trust in Him,
For this is your end: Love.

Be not dismayed, my daughters three,
For God will bring you home,
To sit with Him eternally
By his majestic throne,
For the days you spend on earth
Are but a single breath,
For after life, and after strife,
There is no longer death.

Be not dismayed, but look to God,
Who calls down from above,
And says, "No longer be dismayed,
Nor fear, for I am Love."
Open your heart to trust in Him,
For He will always be,
The Father that has loved you most,
My precious daughters three.

Solomon's Temple

See there? That was your first mistake.
The temple is the Lord's.
It was not made by human hands,
Nor its foundations poured
Down from the troughs of cement trucks,
Nor mason laid its bricks.
A temple built on Holy Mount
Is but the Devil's trick.

The temple that the Lord has built
Is this: the flesh of man.
He raised it up from stones of earth
And in his ribs has spanned,
The dwelling where the spirit dwells,
And flows within its grooves,
Rivers of blood that mix with breath
And makes his temple move.

God does not live in house of stone
Built by a human hand,
Nor does his spirit dwell within
A dwelling place of man.
But God has raised up his own tent,
And there inside he dwells
In comfort when the Son of Man
Submits it to his will.

For God needs not a golden throne,
Nor altar built of stone,
The Lord Jehovah dwells in flesh,
In human skin and bone.
His temple will never be built
On David's Holy Hill.
His spirit, Jesus Christ did prove,
Resides where spirit will.

A spirit is a living thing,
Not dead, like bricks of gold.
It lives inside a human being;
It is not bought, nor sold.
It takes its dwelling where it will,
And dwells where it will do.
So open up your temple doors,
And let it dwell in you.

The temple built by Solomon
Was his and not the Lord's,
So Jesus said to tear it down
And watch it be restored.
For never was a temple built
The Lord hath dwelt within
Except for flesh and blood and bone
Enclosed by human skin.

Melchizedek

Do you know how precious
Your image is,

This one,

The one you have manifested

In your mind

Yarn,
Sand,

Air.

Do you know the difference

Between a photograph,
And a sculpture,
And a poem?

Remember this,

In remembrance of

The bread
And the wine.

(The Revelation)

Jah VH

Who are you that I praise,
That I want You to know,
Who are you that has set the sun
And caused the seed to grow?

Who are you that is there,
Who are you that is was,
Who are you that did set the sun
And made the is to was?

Who are you that is that,
Who am I that is me,
Who are you that is his and her,
Who are you that will be?

Who are you that will be
After I am is dead?
Who are you that I will I arise
To face, and then be wed?

I know not what you are.
I know not what I am.
I know not what you want from me.
I am. You are. I am.

Hungry Ghost

"When you die,"
The lama said,
"You will walk through shadows."

"When you die,"
The lama said,
"You will still be hungry."

"Why?"
The man asked.
"Why will I be hungry?"

"When you die,"
The lama said,
"You will not be dead."

"When you die,"
The lama said,
"Death is not death."

"When you die,"
The lama said,
"Death is a but a door."

"A hungry man who passes through a door
Will still be hungry.
A hungry ghost that dwells within a man
Will hunger when the man falls into dust."

The Wrong Hero

If she did not stand up
When he said, "Girl, arise!"
Could she have seen the Light of God,
The Love within his eyes?

If she did not obey
When he spoke, "Talitha koum!"
Would then the Glory of the Lord
Be witnessed in her room?

If God she did not trust
When he kneeled by her bed,
Could she have opened up her mouth
To feed on living bread?

If she did not awake
When in her ear Christ spoke,
Would she have opened up eyes
And from nightmares awoke?

If she did not arise
When he took her by the hand,
Could have known the Prince of Peace
And in his presence stand?

Did not the girl rise up
From sleeping on her bed
When Christ the Holy Son of God
Said, "Live! Do not be dead!"

David

Do you know,
You are loved?

Loved of whom?

Your name, great,
Beloved,
Object of God.

God loves

The Beloved.

Thomas

A Word unto the Scientist,
The one who pursues Truth,
Who will not use the intellect
To know It without proof:

The Word to know, you Scientists
Who choose all words to use:
Both tens and threes, and cause to bes,
Approaching limits, twos:

The Word given to Scientists
Who judge the truth of words
Is this: the cause of life is bliss,
And death is caused by swords

That separate the flesh from life,
That cut the lung from heart with knife,
That cause the atom to explode,
That disjoins man from God he knows.

Here is the word, dear Scientist
That's offered unto you:
Read holy book, and for Truth look
That speaks inside of you.

For it is true that one and one
Does testify to two,
So does a slap across your cheek
Bring suffering to you.

So does the pain of death return,
When men send pain to men,
A planted seed, brings forth a weed,
To bear fruit sown by sin.

But God, who truth has planted
Into eternal soil
Will not bring life from death and strife,
Nor rest from work and toil.

So into his own body
A spirit he gave breath,
That within man, as he has planned,
Life will sprout among death.

Look to this Word, dear Scientists,
For Truth you claim to know:
The proof is clear for those who hear
These words the Spirit sows.

Let there, you Holy Scientist,
The Seed within you grow,
For He has sown the Truth in you
And caused you now to know

That He who made the darkness
Has filled it with his light:
A space he fills by divine will
Has rescued you from night.

But hear this warning, Scientist,
To you who will not see:
The opposite of one is none,
This only Truth you need.

For all the tools the Scientist
Has made or ever will,
Depend alone upon this One,
And never more reveal.

There is no more you'll ever know
That has not yet been shown:
This Word of Life will conquer strife
When in you it is sown.

Breathe in, you Holy Scientist,
Suck in the Holy Breath,
That testifies the God of Life
Has ever conquered death.

The Stone

He cut a stone from earth, and breathed into itself,
And sacrificed upon its face all ambition's wealth.
Though Judah built it up, Judas did tear it down
And stored it in a dwelling place, deep below the ground.

There did the living stone upon whom breath was breathed
Rest again, stained with sin, into Sheol received.
Till at appointed time, breath gave to it again,
Of his own lung, his will then done, gave back the stone to men.

They said, "This is not it, the stone returned to us,
For there we laid inside the grave the stone, and now it's dust!"
But he who won't be mocked by men the grave unlocked,
And unleashed death to take their breath and give it to his flock.

The stone he cut from earth, bears witness unto him
That all is life, but sin and strife, do wrest this peace from men.
And so, the stone lives on, as all who know him do,
For up from these the God of peace doth raise himself in you.

Star Sun, a Flower

You have the choice to breathe;
You have the choice to not.
You may choose to believe:
This only choice you've got.

For try to hold your breath,
Tis harder, that, to do
Than plant a seed of faith
In Him who breathes in you.

You cannot teach your heart
To skip appointed beats,
But slow your breath, and then
Again, slow breath repeat.

The heart will follow, too,
To slow its rapid pace,
And with your breath controlled
You teach your heart much grace.

And when you learn that you
Have no choice but to breathe,
Though slow, in grace, begin
To learn how to believe.

For never has a man
Exhaled his final breath
And still the heart beat on
As flesh that conquered death.

For you are spirit: know,
With every breath believe,
That spirit lives in you;
In flesh the Spirit breathes.

Learn now to tame your mind
That leads your heart astray.
Breath in the Breath of Life,
And know that It will stay

Alive when you are dead,
For you are not your flesh.
But temple born for God,
And by Him you are blessed.

There is no thing to know
But this: That God is God.
The rest is joy or pain,
The only choice allowed.

For try to stop your breath,
And you will taste of death,
But those who Him believe,
Will never cease to live.

Punk Funk Guru

For Chad Groves

Here is a mystery
That's obvious to see:
The plainclothes god in me
That gives me breath to be.

I do not make this breath
That that forms this shibboleth.
No height, nor width, nor depth
May save my soul from death,

But only one thing: Love,
An oil anointed dove,
Descending from above,
This spirit I speak of:

This force of life, this god,
That dwells in human bod,
That raises up from sod
Both love and peace in blood.

Breath deep this holy power
That dwells in you an hour
Before it fades, your flower,
And death drops seed in shower

Upon the blessed earth,
The womb from spirit births
Abundance raised from dearth,
New temples beyond worth.

The spirit grows in you.
No other work to do
But love, and as you do,
Allow the spirit, too.