Power

I have an ability

Like magic in my veins

A power intense

Causes ecstasy or pains

 

I wielded this in my youth

With strength and ease

Senseless abandonment

Whenever and wherever I please

 

The skill is honed

Now that I’m older

Can kill without thought

Fine-tuned and bolder

 

And it shakes me with terror

As many by it fall

I stifle my power

Evaluate it all

 

It makes the eyes glisten

Moves the heart

Brainwashes the mind

And changes every part

 

So these later years

I watch, wait, and pray

And nervously pace

Guarding what I say

 

What is this power

That fills me supernaturally?

It’s something you have too

It’s basic and actually…

 

Our words.

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The Mayor’s Child

images

 

I have numerous brothers and sisters

I am somewhere in the middle

We’re raised by our father Luc

Our mother is dead

 

We attend a school each day

Teeming with shady teachers

They lie to us and lead us astray

I hate it there

 

But the man I hate most

Is our city’s mayor

He sits in a mansion atop a high hill

He has guards at His gates

 

Dad despises his guts

He spits at the TV when he appears

When his employees campaign at our house

Dad throws rocks

 

A couple of times I’ve found

Banners and fliers in the cellar

Old stained blood on the floor

And I know he’s killed some

 

He hates the mayor

 

See, the thing is my dad has campaigned too

Us by his side dressed up nice

The man with a dozen sweet children

But in the end, Dad always loses

 

Then one frosty morning

Everything changes

The despised mayor sends

His only kid to our school

 

It makes no sense

The boy has tutors

A hoard who serves him day and night

Why is he here in our slimy school?

 

Those who voted for his father are few

They’re afraid to speak up around us

Luc’s children abound

And teachers tear the mayor’s picture

 

Why is the mayor’s son here?

 

He’s tanned and average-looking

Nothing like what expected

I thought he’d be peaches and cream and golden

Like his father

 

The boy his famous father always kept off the TV

Only guesses as to his character

The cameras on him now

The teachers disgusted

 

He makes friends so fast my toes curl

He gives out gifts like he’s infinitely wealthy

But not cheap, shallow money

Real things that make personal sense

 

My dad, in anger, beats me

His belt a stinging whip

He breaks my arm under his fists of stone

My mouth is silent, my heart already dead

 

It’s my plan, I own it proudly

My brothers and sisters we plot

Around the locker rooms at recess

On the rusty playground at lunch

 

But the mayor’s son looks at us and we think he’s heard

Does he know?

 

My dad gives me the weapon gladly

Wringing his hands and patting my greasy head

My broken arm limp by my side

I am his favorite child now

 

The mayor’s son keeps no guards

His small arms aren’t strong

His voice is firm but gentle

His step soft and light

 

This will be easy.

 

On the last day of the semester

All my brothers and sisters

We storm through the school doors

Handguns clutched in jittery hands

 

The teachers see us and step aside

The few children who voted for the mayor run in fear

We are unopposed

Unstopped

 

The mayor’s son steps out of a classroom

He walks straight for us

No surprise in his eyes

Nothing to defend himself

 

Hands out in welcome

He is alone

 

We gun him down without mercy

My siblings and I fill him full of holes

We kick his head when we’re done

We stand triumphant over his lifeless body

 

But suddenly the boy pulls out his cell phone

He had it all along

He could have summoned his guards

Rescue was one call away

 

But at this time he calls the mayor

We hear the man’s voice pick up

“Dad, I’m dying but don’t be mad

Luc’s children don’t know that it’s wrong.”

 

They have no idea what they’re doing

 

When the mayor’s guards come to our father’s house later that day

Dad acts like his hands are tied

He gnashes his teeth and curses

But his gun lies still at his feet

 

They take only me

Somehow they knew

I was the schemer

It was my fault

 

I’ll never forget the look in his eye

When he asked his dad to forgive us.

When he breathed his last

When his blood stilled cold

 

The large gates on the hill open

I’ve never been in here before

My knees are liquid

My breath is a panic

 

I shall die now

The mayor runs forward with arms open wide

He himself who I’ve seen on TV

He clutches me in arms so strong

My breath disappears entirely

 

Why is he hugging me?

What is this?

 

“You are my son!” he says

And I think he has actually gone mad

“I killed your son!”

And it comes out in a sob

 

With a smile that thaws out my dead heart

That peaches and cream and gold

Looks straight into my soul

And he says

 

“You were always my son

I adopt you back today

I chose you from the moment my wife gave you birth

But Luc abducted you from me.

 

Even if I had extended a hand

You thought you were Luc’s son

You did his bidding

You were his, in bondage

 

So I waited until the perfect timing for your heart

And then sent my own son.

I knew if you killed him, and you saw his death

Your heart would be ready

 

Luc would have no hold on you

The law would have no hold on you

Your teachers would have no hold on you

Your debt would be paid

 

And I would draw you here back to me.”

 

It’s too much for me to understand

To trade one perfect son for me

To adopt his enemy

To choose me and love me

 

His plan

 

If thought that my soul would contain no other emotion

But I was wrong once again

For behind the mayor

Appeared his dead son

 

Alive and well

Bullet holes like scars

Marring his hands and feet

“Come live with us, my sibling!

 

You too are the mayor’s child!”

 

 

“For He chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love He predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will– to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us.”

Ephesians 1:4-8

 

 

 

 

 

Defeat

As we are thinking of Christmas and what we are celebrating, I present a poem I wrote back in 2008.

 

 

The smell of sulfur rose in the air

Decay and carnage everywhere

The sound of a spirit fighting for breath

The sight of the grasping touch of death.

 

Amidst this all sat a blackened prince

His corpse scorched, each movement with wince

Eyes as black as burning coal

A clamoring, hating, dying soul.

 

With a roar, he summons those

Whose lives he’s snatched from clean white clothes.

They bow, the ground kissing their nose.

Only here he is sovereign – that he secretly knows.

 

He has been scheming the catastrophic demise

Of the One he loathes with no disguise

He’ll doom himself trying if he as to

Defeat his archenemy, his obsession to do.

 

“He thinks He’s a match for my superior fame!

All throughout history I’ve beaten His game!

There’s no way to save these worthless people!

Their minds are slush; their will is feeble!

 

“What I have done surpasses expectation

The Jews have no hope for Roman emancipation

His deliverance of their bodies and hearts

Cannot pass; I’ve murdered hope in that part!”

 

“Master!” His henchman kisses his black cloak.

“Something is a stir,” it says with a choke.

“Where?” The prince of lies jumps off his putrid throne

And stares at the world beneath his feet of bone.

 

A light shone pure in a very small place

He ground his teeth but laughed, contortions on his face.

“They can’t be saved, no beast’s blood can cover this great sin!

In the end, I, Lucifer, shall win!”

 

Down on the ground he flew, roaring as a lion

Into the very heart of Zion.

And what he saw: God’s perfect plan

Was so ingenious, right out of the Master’s hand.

 

With a howl that brought agony like blood

The devil buried back down into the mud

He had lost! He screamed wild.

God had sent His Son to earth as a tiny baby child.

The Protector

A Poem for Akemi Homura

This is you.

This is me.

There’s a bond

That clings for eternity.

 

Hold you firm

Or try to set you free

There is no choice

My heart refuses me.

 

Outside of will

Outside of claim

Give in and watch

It will remain.

 

Go on and be

Become separate

The heart flees

Uncelibate

 

Yet, in my soul, you

A mark in the corner

Inside my being

Never a foreigner

 

Never losing, never leaving

On the very heart that’s beating

You, your place inside it still

You are not fleeting.

Here we are, time changed and some

Here I am loving you still

Can’t have, yet go

I have no say or will.

 

Instead torn, discontent

Remembrance of you

I give in so often

Don’t forget me too

 

It’s supreme to be

Suffering the same

I’d rather you too

Felt some pain


Because what is this

If selfish it isn’t?

Unless it is

Supernatural and distant?

 

You squeeze my mind

And I accept

You sleep in my soul

This is all I’ll get.

 

I choose to love you

With a part of my brain

I choose to remember

It is joyous, wondrous pain.

Vacillation

“Holy!  Holy!  Holy!” they cry,

Because one is just not enough.

“What is holy?”

Said in a scoff.

 

Because we can’t even attempt just one.

 

Either crouching in fear,

Hiding under Plain clothes and a bonnet

Or on TV, shiny and showy

With nasty language chronic.

 

There is no middle ground.

 

The redeemed will give up the fight

Or simply live in legalistic fear.

The relationship, daily atmosphere

Of Jesus’ presence isn’t here.

 

What is saving faith to you?

 

Striving to get away with much

Or preaching a false gospel of man.

Do you merely want to be like Him

And grasp at only His hand?

 

Throw all of your worldly baubles and extra rules away.

 

Ten thousand rules and more

From men who lead congregations.

Standards, principles, and legalities

Lead a life of separation.

 

They fall the hardest, longest, and deepest.

 

Those that live behind a microphone,

Dress like Britney Spears.

“I have a verse tattooed on my neck!

But I want to be Marilyn Manson fierce!”

 

The millstone is around their neck as they take the long, wet plunge.

 

And then there’s you and me.

Secret sins no one sees.

Life led in the vacillating place.

Wishy washy – “Entertainment, please!”

 

We go to hell confused, “Lord, Lord!”

 

Where is the daily grasping,

Holding the Hand like you’re falling?

The armor strapped on tight.

Crying ’til your head hurts from calling.

 

“I NEED You, Jesus!  Every moment, every hour, every breath!”

 

If I only I could be one “holy”!

I’ll fight my whole life through,

By resting, clutching onto grace

And daily, hourly in Your Word and prayer too.

 

Best Friend, intimate Lover, Spirit within my soul.

 

Desperation, understanding deep sin.

Eyes wide open in front of the mirror clear.

I’m nothing, a mere worm.

How I need You, Jesus Dear!

 

That lowly path is the road to The Holy!  Holy!  Holy!