It was a Friday night, and I took a long walk around.
Just to ease my mind which stress seems to surround.
It felt so great, the warm breeze hit my face.
As I glanced at the constellations shining from the east.
So I step forward, and continue to reminisce
Moving silently, to what Atmosphere acknowledges.
And the moon moves an sadly grins from the view.
As a young kid walks off the emotions he once knew.
A cow moo’s, I see it standing in the dark.
Another sleepless soul, looks like were in the same park.
I glance up, just in time to see a comet.
Close my eyes and make a wish, maybe I can stop it.
And pocket it, cause the luck it holds I need.
I’m tired of being out of money for this toll of dreams.
I look away, towards the long road ahead of me.
Push the memories from my view, and walk into another scene.

Now a new scene, I see this young girl of fifteen.
Staring in the mirror as a tear reflects from a dream.
All she wanted was to be a witness of compassion.
Yet instead she became a witness of verbalized aggression.
Now she stepped forward, and crossed the lines into depression.
Eye’s pierced with the tears of absolute neglection.
Mentally altered, this girl took thee abuse.
Later to encrypt her wrists with a knife she shouldn’t use.
Another fight, so she turns to a heaven’s view.
Cries and she prays to a God she never really knew.
Never understanding why life takes it’s sways.
While she sees a loving family when here life turns to gray.
So she sneaks out, to walk off all her memories.
Walks down a boulevard, yet it’s like a country street.
Kicks a stone in the light shining from the moon.
As I watch in the distance as she walks outta view.

Love lost, is different then what it seems.
You just gotta acknowledge all your opportunities.
Walking in one’s shoes is thee only way to see.
So you gotta stay open so everyone believes.

Now a Veteran, straight outta World War Two.
Stares out the window, with his eyes so blue.
Remebering the times as a strong young chap.
Now he sit’s in his wheelchair, he’s now handicap.
Cause he can not forget all the blood that was shed.
Young growing boys live’s end before it begins.
Haunted by the image, it now pillages his brain.
Can barley even speak, without hearing bullets ring.
He dreams of, taking back what he’d seen.
A young Jewish boy left slaughtered by his feet.
Wondering, what kind of human can achieve.
Such a gruesome status, and still be an elite.
It penetrates his head, even decades after war.
But still he dreams nightmares of both blood and gore.
He closes his eyes, and he prays for an escape.
From this terror that has haunted him through the life he’s made.

The weight of words
Is on my shoulder
Aspiring to fly away
In streams of poetic justice.
How do I accurately convey
What it is I need to say?
There is no right or wrong in this strange
World of rhyme and alliteration.
A verb, a noun, a metaphor
All the memories of years before.
Sight, sound, touch, taste
All clamoring to come forth
With vivid haste.
The weight of words is a burden to my soul
For words are the source of inner control.
My heart wells up inside
At the flow of words
Desiring to be heard.

Jesus, Immanuel

Bright morning star,

Whose birth drew wise men

To visit from afar.

They brought gifts of

Frankincense, myrrh, and gold,

“Bring news of his whereabouts.”

By Herod they were told.

After they worshiped and

Honored the true King,

The wise men departed

Not revealing a thing.

Out of his anger

King Herod had killed,

Every boy child under two, ‘til

With weeping the night was filled.

An Angel told Joseph

“To Egypt you must flee,

When Herod is dead

You’ll return to Galilee.”

Joseph obeyed, taking

God’s Holy Son,

Protecting His life

From the evil one.

Avoiding Bethlehem

Upon his homeland returning,

Joseph went instead to Nazareth

Keeping prophecy churning.

The boy grew in favor

With man and with God,

His knowledge of Holy Writ

Did learned rabbis applaud.

They wondered how a lowly

Carpenter’s son could know,

The things that he said and

The wisdom He did show.

When He grew older He

Left home to minister, while

Performing great miracles

A commotion He did stir.

He turned water to wine

At a wedding one day,

Telling His mother to

That it wasn’t his day.

He cast out demons

Told them to flee,

They had to obey for

They knew Him you see.

With a dab of mud

He healed the blind eye,

While telling the Pharisees

“You’re living a lie.”

They plotted his demise

Buying it with silver coin,

From Judas the traitor when

Their cause he did join.

One night as Jesus prayed in

The Gethsemane Garden,

The heart of Judas

Did totally harden..

He led Roman soldiers to

The place where Jesus stood,

He pointed Him out just

As Jesus said he would.

Peter jumped forward

With sword in hand,

Wounding a soldier while

Making a stand.

Jesus said, “Peter, do you

Still not understand?

If I called ten thousand Angels

By my side they would land.”

The disciples ran away

Into the night,

Only Peter stayed to

Witness the Lord’s plight.

They took Him to Annas

In the High Priest’s Palace,

Questioning His authority

Intending Him malice.

In the meantime Peter

Waited quietly outside,

But when recognized

Jesus three times he denied.

When the cock crew

Peter hung his head in shame,

What the Lord had predicted

Had happened just the same.

After answering questions

Jesus was struck in the face,

By the palm of a soldier

Standing watch in the place.

“I speak truth only

Why can’t you see?

I only do what my

Father tells me.”

To the Hall of Judgment

Jesus was led,

To stand before Pilate

The Governor instead.

“Why is He here?

What has He done?

What charges do you bring

Against this one?”

“He claims to be a ruler

We have none but you,

We want you to crucify

This lying Jew.”

Pilate asked Jesus

“Are you King of the Jews?”

“My Kingdom’s not of this world.”

Do what you choose.”

“Are you a King then?”

Jesus replied, “You have said,

For this I was born

To bring life to the dead.”

Pilate told the priest, “I find

No fault with this man,

You should consider

Changing your plan.”

“Give us Barabbas at

The Passover in His place,

For Jesus is a shame to

The Jewish race.”

When brought before the crowd

They yelled, “Crucify!

We want this imposter to

Hang and die!”

Crowned with thorns

Mocked and scourged,

Adorned with a robe

His destiny forged.

Jesus carried His cross

All the way to Skull Hill,

Cursed and made sport of

As He fulfilled His Father’s will.

They nailed his hands and feet

To the cross that was bestowed,

Piercing His side until His

Life’s blood flowed.

About the ninth hour

Jesus cried out for all to see,

“My God, My God, why

Have you forsaken me?”

After crying out again

He gave up the ghost,

Returning to the Father

And the Heavenly Host.

The veil of the Temple

Was torn in half,

The earth did quake

And the grave did laugh.

Three days later

Jesus rose from the dead,

Conquering sin, hell, and the grave

By dying in our stead.

Twilight settled over the cobble-stone street
As two lovers at Maraise’ café dared meet,
She performed a curtsey, in her coral blue day-dress
He a sweeping bow attired in his finest no less.
The crystal chandelier emitted a soft amber glow
Candles burned in wall sconces and violins played low,
She fanned her face demurely, daring to meet his eyes
He smiled at her wanly, a wolf in sheep’s disguise.
The waiter produced two menus featuring the ‘piece de resistance’
Which was comprised of nothing short of the finest sustenance,
Beyond the window to the right a moonlit river flowed where through
Silken scallop-edged draperies, the strands of time were slowed.
The boatswains steered their gondolas down the river line
As Gents and Lady’s of substance quietly sipped their wine,
As they perused the menu, he clutched her small gloved hand
She gasped in feigned surprise but gave no reprimand.
The music swelled as patrons gathered on the ballroom floor
Boisterous and lively, the atmosphere calm no more,
Redingote with wooden trim, checked trousers, vests, and cravats
Cashmere dresses with silk embroidery, and beautiful matching crepe hats.
Walking sticks were set aside, velvet clutches left behind
As the bourgeoisie elite socialized, wined, and dined,
As the music waned and tables were prepared with grand and ornate ware
The patronage of the chateau sat down to consume the fare.

That grand oak tree
How did it form?

From a seed made of God
Grander than human folklore.

It embedded in this fertile land Nutured by a mighty hand.

An outer shell one day broke lose
From it a stem sprang forth
And tiny roots drank from earths juice.

A day to break from the ground.

Yearly a trunk grows wide
by adding wooden circle round.

From its source arms
Reaching for a sunrays charms.

Green leaves of fraility stand
Gaining strength from rain heavy roots
ground in a richer land.

Right seasonly her seedlings come.
A nature of variety tell fate of some.

Dropped to embed in this fertile land.
It is nurturedby a mighty hand.