My head hangs low with images of Your great suffering,
as my eyes close tight and shed tears for my King,
That day of agony is over,
when Your love flowed and redeemed us,
Precious Lord,
our sins shadow the lilies in the morning light,
our anger storms in our minds,
Yet, You, glorious Jesus,
scourged and cruelly hung on that cross for all of us,
what a loss, what a loss, that became a victory.

Your love flowed and redeemed us,
they saw their own shame,
but that shame also bore my own name,
You didn't lay in that dark, cold tomb long,

upon these shoulders,
ticking creditors reach
out with greasy claws
for recompense

sun has long
since flowered spitting
petals below in broad
sweeping bands

the fawning sense
asks to lie
before it and
drown within 

until the moment
icy ink
encroaches

On the first Sunday After the full moon has fully shown, On or past the day of twenty-one, A great spiritual experience is known. Christians join as one To worship as believers in His son. All fitted In fancy hats, dangling ties, and pastel dresses, Offering symbolized gifts of colored decoration In an annual Christian festival of celebration. All the spiritual leaders loudly proclaim His word, As silent prayers of thanks are ever heard In joyous song. Now sins may be forgiven, For Jesus Christ has died and risen.

What If, Prayer is chosen, If us all wondering souls, Would choose to do so, Or rather choose to stay broken, What If, Love is in every person,place an thing, If successfully wanted to be given, Some things just won't ever change, Like us all out here everyday sinning, What If, Faith is an assumption an/or belief, If we all choose that to see, Yet no one has any faith anymore, We've all fallen at bad seaside shore, What If, We all pray, That no one goes unloved another day, That we'd all finally be okay, That's "What If" when it comes to my faith.

The statue of Saint Francis*  stands
With placid smile and quiet hands
Beneath a scarred birch
Where supplicants perch—
A quaint church
On torn lands.

Thick ivy clings to graves and grows
Untended over stones in rows.
A blanket of moss
Has softened love’s loss—
On each cross,
Weathered prose.

A furtive form, a runaway,
Collapses, wounded, on the clay
Where merciful dead
Lie restless in bed.
Weak with dread,
Gnarled hands pray.

He pants despite the twilight’s chill,
Then hears above the whippoorwill

He watches from the wings
as she takes her final bows.
Hoarse screams fill the rafters.
Bodies roll through the aisles.
They surge against the stage
like lemmings in full flight.
Yet security stands ready
and security holds tight
to repulse her hapless thralls.
This steady wall of deaf men,
who cannot hear her songs,
has saved her more than once.

Her albums all go platinum.
Her concerts fill the halls
When the tickets go on sale
the lines queue for blocks.
The critics praise her artistry
and marvel at her range,

It was warm and I was unafraid
For the next few days were written in stone and the sun shone its warmth upon me
Time was still and it was beautiful
A dance of colors presenting themselves to me as I dreamt of soft delicacies;
Awake, the earth was present and grounding,
The buildings tall and embracing.
The nature fragile yet secure reflecting its qualities upon me:
I was fragile and secure

But time doesn’t last and moments pass
The young seedlings grow as will I
Structures crumble as do I

Where on the earth
Does the cold wind end?
I should wish to be,
Right where it quits,
All tired from blowing with
Low pressure fits.
Does wind just fall
Upon awaiting ground,
Continuing to death,
Without a sound?
To join once more
In softly seen air -
Gently brush your cheek,
Muss up your hair.
The wind shall kiss
In quiet delay
The forehead of sweetness,
In love's sweet obey.

Planets, moons and stars
All shine light from millennium past
Part of fables and ancient lore
Circulate and rotate on their own time table

They shoot across the night sky
In a dying blaze of glory
From moon our tides are predicted
Solid sound and light waves hover

I don’t know why
Some lost people find their path by the open sky
I find shining planets small as a pea
My telescope trained on the vast universe

But the heavens did exist eons ago
To sparkle and put on a celestial show
I still prefer the Earth to Mars