Monday Morning Faith

Monday Morning Faith

Long Sunday Night
Passes slowly
As the early Monday morning
Is anticipated
The juggle of demands
Reacted to in half formed plans

The halfback sweep of life
Stretched for linebacker tackling ways
The violent wrap
And driving feet
In stress
Contrary to being present
And giving each moment
Loves best

To be mindful
And kind filled
Prayed up
Not laid up
From a swirling mind
Tied to task not matched
To your nature talents

To regret
Yet attend
To the light you hold within
Certain and confident
That your life is directed by Him

To testify to the accomplishments
Of things you were sure you could never do!

Conformed to an Image
Not your own
But one conceived
At a Heavenly Throne!

My Generation

Don't want to burn out or fade away

Just want my generation to have its say

Don't want that say to be 

Look at my stuff

Don't want that say to be

Look I am tough

Hope we leave the world

Better than we found it

Racism might die

I hope by starvation

Domestic violence

By relentless confrontation

Our planet can't sustain more

Oil and plastic

Recycling garbage

Isn't really that drastic

There is plenty of land

With plenty of food

For plenty of people

If life were valued

The whole world

Would be a successful

Commune!

Addicted to War

It was never my goal
But a merger occurred
The fright of fight
Met the pump of Adrenaline
War is Hell
But I am High Like Heaven

Bombs bursting in mid-air
And I don't care
I am a soldier of misfortune and
I am addicted to War

Limbs that fly
Guts that jump
Owning the world
On a cocaine high
I am a soldier of misfortune and
I am Addicted to War

The heroin ache
The ripping of my insides
On the chase
Fuck normal life and
It's meaningless rat race
I am a soldier of misfortune and I am
And I am Addicted to War!

The Lonely Patriarch

The Lonely Patriarch

The lonely patriarch of our time
Left his third wife
But he will tell
He is fine

Ain't seen his kids
Since he don't know when
But he has a 401k
That will keep him comfortable
Almost to the end

He used to own houses
Now he rents a one room flat
Yells at Fox or CNN
Because Facebook
Keeps him in the facts

He stop thinking about his linage
Years ago
Back when he was Kool
And picking up hoes

He lights another smoke
Because he doesn't really care
If he losses a year, or if seven are taken
If you open his shallow heart
It beats out the word forsaken

He is not really sure
If he did this to himself
He never gave much thought
To feminism on academic shelves

Not a victim or a perpetrator
In his own mind
He is just the lonely patriarch of our time

Not Magic

Magic moments not a spell
The Spirit moves
Human hearts swell
In His presence
We were made dwell

Repeated in time
Never twice
The magic lives
In the air of life

Being present, being real
Is laying life down
Love The face in front of you
There the Spirit is found

Complain no more
About doors opened or closed
Where magic is
The Spirit knows