The Cold Wind

The cold wind blows the scattered trash

Only to have it lodge against another wall

Fence, sidewalk, concrete, pieces of steel here in the city

Yet the movement of the cans, paper, cigarette packs are the only life on these streets

There are people here, but they only exist in the city

Buildings stand like giant weeds in this non-productive garden

They look awesome, strong and detached from the earth below

The giant weeds draw the life out of people in the city

They hide the sunshine, clouds, sky and the heavens at night

Some have the audacity to belch smoke, smog,  robbing life from beneath them

They don’t care, know, love, hurt or feel

Like the people that built them

The people of the city

 

11-15-1978

Revised 3-14-16

Going Home

Going back home is such a hard part of life

Leaving our loved ones, children and wife

Longing for heaven yet holding to here

Caught between now and eternity dear.

The pain of our old body pushes us home

Leaving this world of fury and foam

Back to our Jesus, the beginning and end

Whose grace is our hope, forever our friend.

  

Our breathing, it lingers, our vision unclear

The old man within struggles with fear.

But He that is in me, He knows his way back

To mansions and glory no more to unpack

 

So, family don’t worry I’m on higher ground

Death is a veil that Jesus ripped down

I’m more alive than I’ve ever been

Free from all worry, unable to sin.

 

October 2019

Mind Games

Often time my mind has wondered

Of fantasy I can’t explain

I’m other beings, other places

Yet my love for you remains

I pass through worlds that exist

Only for my mind’s own games

Past, present and future are worthless

Only my love for you remains

My hope, my joy cannot be found

In other worlds I can’t explain

I find it in your smiling face

And knowing our love is not a game.

 

Written 1978

Revised 3-14-16

On the Bottom

Lying with billions of gallons of water covering me

I know that my existence is over

I’m just waiting for a grappling hook to rip into me

And bring me back to the fresh air again

I’m kind of glad

Because the peace of death seems far better than the battle of life

I know that my loved ones are sad

But how can they understand the tranquility I feel lying on the floor of this ocean

They can’t and that’s the real sadness of this situation

I wish I could tell them I’m alright

But my vocal cords have long lost their ability to vibrate by now

It doesn’t matter any how

Because in their eyes and their reality my bright, beautiful life has turned to dark dreary night

 

Written unknown

Revised 3-14-16