Wouldst thou endure to fade like autumn gold,
To see thy treasures dulled in fading light,
To watch alone thy tarnished days unfold,
And pass a pauper into worthless night?
Who then will bring a wreath unto thy rest,
And keep thy garden flowered, as is thy wont?
The barren cross that lays above thy breast
Would bear thy name, yet bring to thee affront.
But if thou takes a servant to thy cause,
To tend thy garden and to do thy deeds,
And he would gift a son with no remorse
To tend to thee when his own strength accedes:
Thy treasure trove reflected in his gleaming
Would bring thee joy as thou is ever dreaming.

the dirt on my hands resembles blood. i've gotten too good at this. my shovel kisses the earth. one more returns to where we all began. the blood is dirt, the dirt is blood. these hands are rough & the shovel knows more than it should.

I'll never understand,
the rural American mindset.
And in kind,
I am alien to most rural Americans.
How do you people stand it here?
Does time not pause for you as well?
The looks I'm given,
when I express my yearning,
for concrete, glass and steel.
Yea,
I suppose this spring air smells quite fine,
but it lacks the flavor of a fifth street dive.
And all summer long you all fish or you hike,
I miss just smoking cigarettes in parking lots,
at night.
Many assume,
one who holds such animosity,
towards his fellow man,
would prefer a smaller population density.
This is false.
It's easier to remain enigmatic,
when no one has the time to remember your name.
Your face.
I blend well,
and I do enjoy the fresh air,
the wilderness.
But when I leave work at night,
sometimes,
sometimes I still sit on top of my car and smoke,
just watching traffic.
And I think,
the city is forever in my bones.
And on those nights,
I miss my home.

The one that He loves
The one that He cares
The hopelessly lost
Not finding hope anywhere

The one who's unsatisfied
With life's turn of events
Who's been trying to hide
From that life ever since

The Cross Of Christ Is For...

The fatherless child
On the empty door step
The last lonely mile
Of the dead mans last breath

The kings and the queens
In their palace of pearl
The truth is so clear
It's for all of the world

The Cross Of Christ Is For...

Those dying of thirst
In the desert of life
Those on the high raging sea
With no land in sight

In the joy of the day
In the sadness of night
The Cross of Christ is for
All that is needed in life