Focus that rage
West Texas cowboy boots
Plaster walls falling down
Her silk dress like Hyde Park in London
...
Bliss like science with no boundaries
the gods of creation have plans
castle lights brain chips
experiments
...
Balm of self discovery then the cage
Blood from a tongue of guile
Apothecary of loneliness
Summer rocks in the cold moon
...
The wish to be healed
Maybe that is the healing
I carry these heavy stones
...
On the lithograph smile of handcuffs
Your razor heels devour me
Once innocent ribbons painted
Pure color deep as oak trees
...
Summer is an executioner
Moonlight curls its white fingers
Joy threatens the war of the heart
...
The older I get the more I believe in the Bible as the absolute Word of God. To make Jesus into a existential subjective experience separate from Scripture and propositional truth is just plain heresy. Christ according to the Scripture allows experience to be grounded with proposition and doctrine; this balance is essential. So many who try to tamper with this end up with a ship wrecked faith.
...
These lapses of memory
Quaint as a man living without love
Through the window the old city
Streets we held hands on
...
your bosom of iron sea
nothing touches me like you
your wealth of joy
your teasing smile
...
Pithy saints of the seventh wave
Democracy becomes the flesh
The will of all the fallen flesh
Technology sleeps with the flesh
...