Eucharist

What a monster I am!
And yet I sit and dine in the presence of Greatness
Are you blind?
Have You no eyes to see me?
My knuckles are red and my teeth drip with blood
I am not clean enough for this table, for this love!

“This is my body and blood, Do this in remembrance of me.”
But memory only serves my sin
Of lust and hate, greed and rape
Forgive me! Forgive me!
It was I who betrayed you on that night
My hammer, my spear stole your wings from flight
I dwell in darkness and shun the light
Forgive me! Forgive me!
And yet somehow in this You love me. You love me?
Your eyes fall upon me and though they are filled with pain
No condemnation do they bring
Hope and peace, the song they sing:
Son, though to the darkness you fled
And in lust burned red,
My love was there with you!
Always was and always will!
Love is the picture I paint and the canvas I spill.
Come Son, now have your fill!

So here I sit
Devouring this bloody meal
Great mercy and grace, this I steal
In remembrance of You

redeemed by the bottle

It's finally empty
Looking down, he sees no more left to drown
Nothing but a glass bottle; his worst fears come spiralling down
What of the money; what of his face
What of his family, he'll be a disgrace
"Oh God, what now?"

How can Great God let us fall?
How can Great God let us fall?
He wears his knees but his face still bruises
From life's pummeling and beating, choice he did not choose
Despair setting in
Faith is meager now
In frustration and rage he slams the bottle down
No alcohol spills, no drunken brawl ensues
Just shattered pieces of a life once pursued
Just shattered pieces reflect a forgotten lamb
Just broken pieces and a broken man

But from the shades, the sun peaks through
And reaches the broken glass, the bottle strewn
It reflects and refracts, a beautiful array
The sun transforms the broken to a glorious display
The Son transforms the broken to a glorious display

Dirt

From dust I come and to dust I will return
But I never evolved, I remain dirt
In selfishness I thought I controlled my own life
My deeds were my own, I didn't need to bring them to light
Now here I am, the dirt to be walked upon
Worthy of nothing, but to be forgotten from
the memory and life of my love

My selfishness and lust have held me down
Chained to the earth, I am the the ground
Walk on me. Stomp on me. I deserve it all.
With brokenness and regret, before you I fall
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
With brokenness and regret, before you I fall

From dust I come and to dust I will return
But I never evolved, I remain dirt.

diety

Control and composure, the two deficits of my nature
My life rises and sets, but the sun keeps on…
“Why can’t I change” I cried
“I cannot win! The moon defines the tide, but I can’t even control my eyes
I AM NOT GOD!”
As the wind blows by, I sigh, and my shoe comes untied
…I am undone…
Make me a lily, neither will I labor or toil, unrighteous plans left to foil
You are the truth, the definition, and the question. I am unworthy of Your punctuation
I AM NOT GOD!
I AM NOT GOD!
I AM NOT GOD!
I am a man, fallen and fully dependent to be lifted off these dystrophic legs and carried
home.

Pretty Flowers

(as performed and recorded by Poinsettia)

I am a flower
exterior of beauty but roots of deceit
I will devour
the good set around me, replaced with the ugly
My roots are reaching further down
Spoiling the land where no ones around
The beauty of my petals
Very soon will fade
and fade and fade
to reveal my shade
of darkness

If perfection were to be achieved
Amidst this world of disease
The fingers of fraility would point my way
but unkown words my tongue would say

I am a flower
exterior of beauty with roots of deceit
I will devour
the good set around me, replaced with the ugly
My roots are reaching further down
Spoiling the land where no ones around
The beauty of my petals
Very soon will fade
And fade and fade
To reveal my shade
Of darkness

But breaking through the clouds, a burning light appears
Scorching past my thorns, to my roots of deepest fears
My petals all fall down, to the ground
Through the earth where they will never be found
Something new and glorious indeed
A brand new birth without a seed
I've never known this
I've never seen this
I've never felt this feeling of clean
New water flows
Like blood it glows
To renew my roots and make me free

In my garden...

I

If life is a garden
Then friendships are trees
Oak and Spruce, Maple and Pine
Friends of many shapes and different kinds

The rings of our tree grow many
And through many winters it has survived
Water is carried to leaves by complex lines
Telephone bills and post office lines
There is nothing I would trade it for
Oak, Spruce, Maple or Pine
The rings of our tree grow many
And an aged tree does not easily die.

II

If life is a garden
Then love is a rose
Beautiful and Breath-taking
Yet piercing is the thorn

Loves I have had
But a thorn you have been
The rose has bloomed
The rose has blossomed
But never has it been plucked
No, never plucked for my beloved’s vase
For fear of the piercing
For fear of the painful distaste
The petals fall and the rose fades
For by the prick of the thorn
Oh, by the prick I’ve been detained

III

I love the trees
And a rose is most beautiful
But as far as I can know
The two, together, do not grow
Oh, how I wish to plant them together
To enjoy the tree’s shade
And to bask in the beauty of the rose
But, oh, together they will not grow!
Some days I wish to cut the tree and plant the rose
But if it never blooms
If it never blossoms
It will take years for the tree to again grow strong

IV

Today I will plant the rose.
Although I know others will grow, you will always be the thorn.
I will plant the rose!
But when I come for the plucking
Will I be pricked by your thorn?
Pricked by your thorn to bleed to my death?
Or will I carry this rose to your vase?
Carry this rose to your vase and take away your breath?

Autumn

6 hour drive to the cities
choke it down like poison
put her on the plane
watch it take flight
up up up
as my joy falls
down down down
like these autumn leaves

I hate letting go even though
I know YOU can care so much more than me
But I still can’t help to think that
they lied when they said
home is where the heart is

6 hour drive back home
As she flies back to Chicago
my heart in her hands