Scheduled Execution

As I set my head upon the guillotine,

A voice descended from heaven.

“Stop! Why do you do this?” It said.

“Because I am guilty,” I said, “deserving death.”

“Your sins are grave, but I took them to the grave

They died with me and I brought you up

into new life. Do you not remember this?”

“I forget so easily,” I said.

“Rise, my child, into my grace,

and your new life.”

I did rise after all and since then

have been forever changed,

though that fateful blade still haunts menacingly

the corner of my mind’s eye.

Performers, Get Fed

Performers, get fed

Return to the fountain of your youth

Lest you continually drink from an empty well

and sing and speak with a mouth so dry

it spurts out dust and fly

instead of living waters.

 

Sit in the stands, in the pews

Be one with the audience, the congregation

Remember what drew you to the altar, the stage

in the first place.

 

We must be born again daily

or die slowly,

turning not into an aging beauty

but a skipping vinyl

playing the same song again and again

til people cup their hands over their ears

and either throw you out the window

or simply walk away.

The Heartbeats of My Existence

God in the silence,

of the silence,

let my breathe be Yours,

Your Nemphesh, Your Spirit

Your holy wind.

When I leave this place of self-induced isolation

let me go and breathe on others,

new life hope and opportunities for relationship

deeper than they have ever known,

let them see You through me,

so much so that I disappear

You are good, o Rock of My Soul

Your life love and glory

are the very heartbeats

of my perpetual existence.