From Daniel And Others

Our rulers weaponize alien thoughts,
Launching demonic mental thought-form bombs,
Nations slide seduced in cascading lots
Down tubes into seductive spiritual tombs,
Truth raises a shield of golden symbol,
stone fortresses of parable again,
As "hate speech" judges condemn the Bible,
Followers are called "blasphemers" and slain
Who yet overcome by blood of the Lamb,
Who yet love not their lives unto death,
They dwell in the vortex centre "I Am"
Forgiving all unto their final breath,
Or thread the rubble, nurturing and kind,
Abiding in Jesus, mission and mind.

To The Vortex Of Christmas

Jesus Lamb of God,
Jesus on whom the Spirit-like Dove descends,
Jesus in whose vortex
Every star and planet,
In whose vortex every galaxy spins,

Lamb,
Dove,
Holy mystery,
Terrifying beauty,
From the centre of all that is
You come with
Words of love
For every individual of humankind.

Made flesh,
A mist, a vapour,
A sacrifice,
Wings twinkling like bells
In the sunlight,

A lamb,
Bleeding on the altars
Of our rebellion,
You visit earth
By human child,
Evading just long enough
Our forceps and knives
To leave us words of salvation,

Sweet resonance of angel choirs,
 Reconcile by innovation
By love and forgiveness
Guilty man and Holy God.

Forgive us O Lord,
So bringing peace,
By your Mercy redeem us.

Light that sings
From the centre of the universe,
Our hearts shall be filled
With your song.

Like Christmas

Stone Of Stumbling,
Rock Of Offense,
You are the light
Every Christmas tree
celebrates.

Lightening Rod Of Wrath,
You are the Candle
that lit the candle
in my window.

Rose Of Sharon,
Jessie's Root,
O Promised One,
As before, soldiers
Look to abort your coming
This time in your people,

Word Made Flesh,
Greater your grace to us all
Than the guillotine.

Catacombs are ready
To be populated again

Pens are sharpened,
Ink mixed,  parchment unrolled,
Thankful records of your mercies
In flourish and flowers are recorded.

This is Christmas,
For those who have not forgotten,
String the lute,
Celebrate Jesus born Saviour
Of all who will to be saved.

Creator of the world,
You came to us,
You came in us,
Will come with a million candles
for us again!

If

If we live to please ourselves,
we end up pleasing no one,
including ourselves.

To Be Made Again

You made me, when mist
hung low on the mountains,
every microscopic droplet
you suspended,
encased every branch and twig,
every needle on every spruce
with crystal frost,

You made me on a night
when moon shone on sculpted
landscapes,
rounded every stone and craig
with shallow valleys
of drifted snow,

this was your promise
to the universe,
that you would shelter, shield,
and cover me to surely grow.

When I fell through the ice,
or lost your trail under
the northern lights,
or stormed from my warm cabin door
without a jacket to snowshoe
in the sweaty moonlight until I dropped
in self pity and despair,
you would be there.

I even heard your angels sing,
opened my eyes to find my table set
in the middle of wilderness
and I dead centre
in a ring of music and light.

The universe has watched,
you have kept your word,
you led me not into temptation,
you delivered me from evil,
but I searched it out,
I studied the stars,
forbidden books
in the library of constellations
of my own heart,
and found it anyway,
the Lost City,
faded myself there where only you
could find me, my tracks
erased with freezing rain,

yet still on a silent night like this,
a star of hope shines
over Bethlehem,
and I know I am found,

you will make me again.

As Long Ago In Parchments Foretold

Come, let us be civil.

The universe blazes
With flaring fliers  busy at task,

Winding symbols down,
Parables and paraphrases,

The project is over,
They served us well,

But nothing can mask
The flickering unfinished,
Not fully formed
In you and me.

Soon we will stumble
Beckoned to Bethlehem,
To the stable of prophesy,
To the child, the man,
The risen king,  another prophesy
Of his return,
 The pondering.

Prophesy

Confluence bleeds
blue electric flame
till soul and spirit
breathe the same

from harvest cutting
Sharons long stemmed rose

to midnight shining
Southern Cross

street lamps line the path
His kingdom came.

Weeds whisper
as they toss
intimations
to the wind

and rattle
dry seed pods
as if promises
from pagan gods.

I heard them rustling sigh

"Our weakest are the first
to die
first to rise again"

in floral descant to what
the dusty weed-straw
chorus said:

"Valley-lily somewhere by
is Balm in Gilead

there is a Balm
in Gilead."

Advent

Longing is a wind-blown feather,
wafted softly,
landed when disappearing
distant sails of your ship,
gulls white wings winking,
setting sun reflecting,
vanished into sea-sky folding,

Now all creation groaning,
the kingdom yearning,
throne of thrones,
empty till your returning.

How quietly first you came
to Bethlehem stable,
quietly, a candle
set the world ablaze.

Quietly by miracle amaze,
furiously craze the synagogue
police
who crucified you to their gnashing
teeth scream spittle,
wielding for God’s law implacable
His jot and His tittle.

Spoiled death and decay
by resurrection,

now you’re gone,

so much undone,

Longing, landing like a feather,
breaks the world,
lifted when I glimpse
interim, here and there,
your likeness
in your adopted children.

Quietly to Bethlehem you came,
but trumpeted with shouts of men and angels
riding clouds of glory
you said the spectacle shall be
when you return.

And who shall stand?
my longing love,
who shall presume to stand?

While Looking Up

Foment in us
Fell photons of your light
That we might walk nonplussed
Lightfully as your sons,
Bear your blinding name
Through battlefields of night,
Redeemed among your holy ones,
Delivered from star-fallen shame,
Shackles broken,
Slavery undone,
Knees new fallen,
We stammer troth,
In fealty kindled
By your Love's forgiving flame.

"All My Springs Are In Thee" Psalm 87:7

In so many deep and hidden ways,
Your one spring flows
Near the seekers cottage,
Whose thirst shall always
Be quenched.

If the source cannot be removed,
Though an enemy has tried,
Neither can the subterranean
Watering of Your fertile valleys and hills.

Forever Your thoughtful ones,
Galaxy wide,
Shall be more than satisfied,
Secretly
From its myriad
crystal flowing.

Alpha And Omega

To you for whom nothing is true,
Except that nothing is true,
Which you firmly hold to be true
Like you hold nothing else,
Shall suddenly come,
The Morning Star,
The End and the Beginning,
Now you can choose.

Or be post-modern and refuse,
Before He appears,
your fears
Beginning,
End.

Your Love

To what shall I liken your love?
Still as  silent water
Stretched in sleep beneath your trees,
Reflecting sky and forest shadows,
Filled with life, fish and water fowl,
Insect and all pond dependent life.

Nesting birds enjoy your love
From generation to generation.
Your love,
Supple as the bending reed and strong
As the weeping willow is strong,
soft as downy chicks,
Woven and soaked into the fabric
Scaffolding and soft warm flesh and skin
Of all you have made.

This one love begins and ends with you.
We are born to enter in.

Loves we have derived from your one love,
But they are false and lead to death,
An immitation that cannot sustain the part,
That offer plastic chiton and exoskeleton,
sharp edges and corners,
Stone pride, slashing hate, burning anger,
hasty sketches
For the sinusoidal,
curvacious beauty only your love has made.

Nuturing love, naturally from you,
It is who you are, making us thankful,
secure,
Who you are,
Making you vulnerable
To our twisted borrowings,
Our killing derivitives.

You chose that route,
Our love crossed you,
But you are the greater love,
Stronger than death.

We watched you rise
From our sorry grave,
Rise and rise
As your tsunami
Swept the world.

You say you will return.
In whose love
Will you find us living then?

Easter From The Far Side Of The Moon

I can read and write, but first mind is dark,
So small my God in my understanding
Among the destination stars that mark
The night sky, crowded with angels landing
And ascending in casual traffic,
Intergalactic guardians intent
On serving Him, everywhere the graphic
Cross symbol raised for those who will repent,
Enter the mysterium of power,
Resonating, irresistible love,
That word again, for this love doth flower
Galaxies from atoms, from couples, trove
Human populations whose swift wheels turn
By resurrection loves renewing burn.

Evensong

We are slain by fear of death,
Yet death died for all in Him,

In Him we rise when morning dawns.

Wind rises, falls in forests dark and thoughtful,
Evening vespers in the leaves of trees,
Singing like the sea.

A choir of voices in the stone chapel
Worship the Lord of new day,
Day that is past and tomorrow that shall come.

Be with us tonight as we sleep

Be with us tomorrow as we rise

We sing amen upon this day,
Thank-you and amen.

Tonight as we sleep,
between the alleluia and the alleluia,
fill our sleeping dreams.

Building A Church

Come, stone upon stone, then lay the timbers,
Freshly cut cedars from the hills around,
Pause in the labour, gaze on the harbours
Calm waters from this hillside looking down,
A church on a hill, we build it with love,
Come, you are welcome, we all volunteer,
Worship with hammer and saw, ragged glove,
What skills we possess are all welcome here.
Now lift up the tall walls, and brace them square,
Then we'll hoist roof beams with a hired crane,
Roof members uniting high in the air,
Church members uniting, pray for no rain,
Hammering shingles with unbroken praise,
Steeple bell ringing, our faces ablaze!

Easter Victory

Some war is not rapid-fire, nor cyber,
Nor martial arts, breaking bones, strikes of pain,
Nor greater grit, tougher moral fibre
Wins the battle, victory to attain,
A cross on Golgatha stands forever,
The tomb is empty, the stone out of play,
A battle was fought and won that never
Fired a bullet nor blew cities away,
Death sank cowering in utter defeat
A kingdom descended, a city of light
Darkness scattered in glorious retreat
The risen Redeemer now throned in might
Death bloody killed, prison served, justice done,
Let Easter peaceful dawn, no firing gun.

The Dove And Whitsuntide

                 
Falls white dove Father-sent on gentle wing,
Then Whitsuntide  with tongues of Spirit flame,
The upper room baptism, ennabling,
now fearless in faith preaching Jesus' name
Wth no silver, gold, they give what they can
The blind and the lame, sick and heart broken,
All healed, and so the fledgling church began
Under holy words of power spoken,
The foolishness of preaching bearing fruit,
The world drawing swords of persecution,
Who cut the leaf, but could not touch the root
And stem of Jessie, Sweet Absolution
Ran with gospel birthing one holy bride,
White gowned, many membered, rising world wide.

To The Renegade

O wanted man with a price on your head,
You know too much, this is not a mere game,
The bullets are real, the targets are dead,
Fled love and forgiveness  when revenge came.
War craft and hubris cannot withstand
Corrupt injustice's spreading decay,
Offended you hide, your guns close to hand,
peace, sweet sleep a salvation away.
Wanted dead by death squad powers of state,
All bound by death's fear, in drones do they trust,
Deserted by all but your own private hate,
born of righteous indignation and lust.
God's grace is greater than good mixed with sin,
Refuge His mercy, let Him draw you in.

Morning Devotions

They follow you in quietness and peace.
We see their foot prints  wetly drawing on
To climb the grassy hill among the trees,
The dew, grey frosty mist and breaking dawn.
Each breath a prayer a praise, a wonder song,
The night of sleep now over, morning come.
All birds and flowing waters sing along,
Defeated shadows to the light succumb
With hooded hearts and folded hands they pray,
While rising sun plays lightly in the trees,
And still they bow and bless the coming day,
Friend and foe alike their intercessories.
Unsung your living saints, your prophets, kings,
The cosmos with their morning anthem rings.

Of Five Smooth Stones

There are Words that lie in wait,
Prophetic Hunters covert in copses,
Camouflaged silence
Waiting to be whispered,
Ready to bring down the sky,
Salvation in a blinding blink,
New birth after the rushing water,
A cry of hope and fear,
The bloody indignity.

Not all the words have been spent,
The purse is still full,
In this world
There are  giants left to kill.
A flash mob slinging praise
Shall bring down the glory
In the great Dumbfounding. .