1.0k · Oct 2015
Peter Hall Oct 2015
"Respect" is a word many people use
"Respect" is a word many people abuse
Most people spend their life to learn it
Most people spend their life to earn it.

So they can all say "look up to me"
and prop up their false identity
But respect doesn't come by achievement or funds
or looks, or houses, or car type or chums.

You find "respect" hanging on a cross
not by the gains but by one's loss
You find "respect" between sky and land
with a different crown on a crucified man.
Respect can only be given by those who deserve to give it....
679 · Aug 2015
The ballad of John Mann
Peter Hall Aug 2015
John Mann
Well meaning and average
Hard working and normal
Accumulates much.

Accumulates wealth
Accumulates knowledge
Accumulates self respect
Accumulates an identity.

Confident in his knowledge, and
If you do good, you will get good
If you do bad, you will get beat
Reward comes from work, and risk
And self respect.

Mann is self motivated
Self educated
Self respected
Self sufficient
Self made.

Yet Mann
Self doubts
Self loathes
Self harms in his mind.

Mann is in an everlasting kingdom
Yet lives in a self destructing world
And lives a self depreciating life,
But with an everlasting God
Who has a multi-faceted and a many sided wisdom
Mixed with love from an everlasting power...

...the cocktail mixed by God.

God calls this cup, "glory"

Why ?.

He doesn't always tell
But He always knows
It always works...

It works deep
Is an incisive scalpel ,
Yet most powerful,
Past finding out.

One night,
A black night,
No moon to reflect the sun's light
A place where he has never been
A place where he has never seen
A place where no one else has known; they who criticize,
Where accumulated knowledge has no answer
Where accumulation of experience brings confusion,
Brings a great horror of darkness.

There is no one there
Except Mann and Jesus.

John Mann uses all his strength
And his accumulated wealth
His accumulated knowledge
His accumulated self respect
His accumulated identity
His self education
His self respect
His self sufficiency
His self made mental creations
To defend himself against this vulture.

But Mann gets exhausted in the fight
The exhaustion bring doubt to his doubts
Brings questions to his accumulated knowledge
He is misunderstood,
Self respect starts to dissolve
Identity is stripped away...

Mann feels naked.

His fig leaves of self sufficiency is not sufficient
He doesn't respect his self respect
His education was in the mind; not in power
His identity was misplaced
His wealth of knowledge made him bankrupt.

God's cocktail begins to work
For John Mann must now rest to survive
He must stop.

He screams , "let this cup, this cocktail pass...
Isn't there a better way ?
An easier way
More convenient ?
That gives respect" ?. 

In His sleep
He breathes
And realizes...

There is nothing left...
Only Jesus.

His Kingdom
His knowledge
His wealth
His sufficiency
His position
His rest
and more powerfully, His identity.

John Mann starts to see
He is not God's counsellor, and
That the questions of God become more satisfying than the answers of the world.

This was a most expensive drink
It cost Mann everything;
Yet gave him everything.

This cup is now always full
Instead of always needing to be topped up.

When the vultures come, from the externals
He just sits and smiles,
Resting in work of the black night and the cup he drunk from 
For now Mann's source is not self
But that which has been imparted deep within,
Deep has connected with deep.

Mann is forever altered,
He doesn't look the same
He doesn't feel the same
He doesn't think the same
He is not the same.

He walks with a limp
He sings with his heart, not his head
He talks with a new tongue
Poison no longer harms him.

He loves what he used to hate
He hates what he used to love,
Now his prayers start with thankfulness
Gentleness has smoothed the hard edges,
Through grace glasses he sees differently.

From the black night,
The uncomfortable cup,
The inconvenient cocktail of night and horror...
Is the stripping process...
Brilliant, clever, loving and eternal.

Always works
Always powerful
Always better in depth and richness.

Now Mann doesn't need external virtue
For John Mann was stripped of himself
And now possesses another life in exchange,

The day breaks
The night is far spent,
John Mann is now ready for the next time night comes,
With power.
Life always brings a stripping process to all of us "John Mann's"
585 · Aug 2015
The wisest leader
Peter Hall Aug 2015
People follow the person first 
Followed by their message,
The wisest leader knows the truth
That gives them greatest leverage.

Yet the greatest leader in history showed
The message makes the man,
And helping all in love and grace
Will gather every clan.
I used to believe that a person's message was the main thing. I used to see that all leaders were fallible and therefore, it is best to glean the best part of people's message whilst not being influenced by the person. However, I now realise this is a minority thinking; most people follow the person first...their message is secondary. If you seek maximum influence, your contact with people should be peppered with love and grace. Your conversation should be "seasoned with salt". Once you have their attention red carpetted by love, only then will they listen to your message.
564 · Aug 2015
Highland laddie
Peter Hall Aug 2015
He was a highland laddie 
Grew up in the great glen
Played shinty for Fort William
A man amongst men.

He played the highland pipes
With heartbeat rhythms felt
That pumped his blood within
While wearing his clan's kilt.

Fishing at Loch Linnie
Would stir his Gaelic pride
As he viewed the heather
His Lassie by his side...

...he wakes up from his dream
And yet his dream lives on
To prove his Scottishness 
And confirm where he comes from.
The most powerful force in the universe besides love is identity.
527 · Aug 2015
Trying too hard
Peter Hall Aug 2015
Rock and roll takes its toll
Puts you down the toilet hole
You never make it in the fold
They never want to see your scroll 

Calm their fears tickle their ears
Before they give you love and cheers
But you have to buy their beers
Their attention is far too dear.

On the shelf protect yourself 
Or you're no good for anyone else
In the heat you'll just melt
In your heart this must be felt.

Too intense advice I lend
Trying too hard makes you pretend
It's all your fault if they don't spin
And listen to what comes out your chin.

Sometimes you just try too hard
To make it happen near and far
In your mind hop in your car
And take drive up to the stars.

Relax relax and stop the boat
You don't change the mess below
Release the catch and what's in tow
For love and life come as a flow.
Sometimes, you try too hard, and just gotta let go. Written after a near fatal car accident.
373 · Oct 2015
Sea shells
Peter Hall Oct 2015
If only shells could talk and think
Lazy on the Clyde,
I wonder what they'd say to us ?
"I drift in with the tide...

"You can't control everything
Though you've done your best
Sometimes you need to let things go
Enjoy the view and rest".
A walk along the Firth of Clyde in Scotland got me thinking...
365 · Aug 2015
Peter Hall Aug 2015
"Revenge is a dish best served cold"
Is wisdom spoken by Churchill,
"Vengeance is mine says The Lord"
Permits your mind to be tranquil.

Allowing God to take your vengeance
Means you're never depraved,
And if you're going to take revenge
You might as well dig two graves.
361 · Aug 2015
Shinty town
Peter Hall Aug 2015
Pine trees mingle into the green
The bonnet is wet with the clouds
Curling roads are full of promise of the joy around the corner
The windscreen and the highlands become twins 
Sleepy wipers clear the way for the first sign
"Shinty this afternoon. 2:30pm throw up"
Anticipation and adrenalin become back seat drivers
Shiny streets smile their gaelic welcome
Brick buildings, holy and steadfast announce "you've arrived"
Pubs with antlers on the wall mop up stray pedestrians
Cars, single file and hypnotized
Crawl through the Main Street then turn right
Where they reach the sticky car park with tyre tracks thousands of years old
Misty highland backgrounds give an apostolic reminder of where you are
Then whispers to the locals; "custodian"
Highland glen
Shinty men
Shinty town.
Shinty is the game we play in th Scottish Highlands. But it's not a game; it's an identity !.
325 · Oct 2015
My first kiss
Peter Hall Oct 2015
My future wife, my future life
Walks with me to the car,
Hand in hand, women and man
Under Aussie summer stars.

What now ?. Dunno how
This will all turn out,
My first love, her first love
Thinking of all the doubts.

Open her door, but before
She can get in the car,
Beating fast, faster and faster
Two innocent virgin hearts.

I hold her close, closer and closer
A moment not to miss,
Emotions fond, then respond
In a mutual life sealing kiss.

Mutual hug, emotions tug
Two lives changed forever,
Emotions feel, our lips are sealed
Going back to yesterday never.

Relationship trait, forever mates
That started with a kiss emotional,
Progressively shows, progressively grows
Into lives that are based on the spiritual.

All these years, all these fears
Have grown a greater love,
Not to be missed, was that first kiss
But the source of our life is God.
A trues story....33 years ago
300 · Aug 2015
A fork in the road
Peter Hall Aug 2015
I went for a walk
in Balquidderock wood
To a fork in the road
But which one was good ?.

Paralyzed by fear
Unsure where to go
Where is the ease ?
Where is the flow ?.

The one that seems easy
may be deceptive
what floods the brain
are thoughts so eclectic.

I take the first step
ahh !...that's OK
Green light in my spirit
I'm on the right way.
Balquiderrock wood is near my home in Scotland.
298 · Aug 2015
Working class mind
Peter Hall Aug 2015
He's stuck with a working class mind
And grooves in the working class grind
And walks down the working class street
Where the mud sticks under his feet.

Always working to pay the rent
Or the interest on the mortgage lent
Living for the football game
So the weekend just grinds the same.

Then Monday comes around too soon
Five more days on the merry go round
Where boredom numbs his joyless mind
And the rhythm of life has no rhyme.

But Friday night is slowly on its way
And Celtic's playing on Pay TV
A few pints will help him freeze his mind
And help sustain his working class grind.
Glagow boredom....Celtic is the Glasgow football team...
237 · Oct 2015
There is nothing
Peter Hall Oct 2015
The building has imploded
The bridge has buckled
The floods have done their thing
The fire has licked up the dust
There is nothing.

People's promises proved untrustworthy
The well meaning preacher's principles are unreliable
The mask of others have been exposed
Past experience seems irrelevant
There is nothing.

The emotions have numbed
The will has fluttered
The heart see two roads ahead, doubt,
The mind cries out
"There is nothing".

Times lapses
God is slow
The trapeze artist hovers in the air between release and catch
There is nothing.

Courage for another look
Cloud as a man's hand
The seventh time...long time
Lifts up the head from between the knees
There is something.
From a dark place comes hope
214 · Aug 2015
Killing the spider
Peter Hall Aug 2015
All her fears
Were based on a lie
If you deal with the lie
The fears will die.

She dealt with the lies
Bottled up inside her
Not cleaning the cobwebs
But killing the spider.
Don't kill the cobwebs...you have to kill the spider.
203 · Aug 2015
Peter Hall Aug 2015
The investor decides to buy more shares
The profit he'll make with fix his cares
And change his world for ever and ever
Buying this stock will prove him clever.

The investor decides to sell more shares
The profit he makes will fix his cares
And change his world forever and ever
Selling this stock will prove him clever.
"One person buys some shares. Another sells those shares, and they both think they are astute". Unknown
167 · Aug 2015
Peter Hall Aug 2015
I stroll down to the wee river
The snow feathers through the mist.
I carry my camera
I carry my cares
I carry my requests
Yet I carry His presence.

Alone yet not alone
Out of the Spirit, into the mind

I walk out of the mist
Back home
He carries me.
43 · Jul 2017
Kimberley man
Peter Hall Jul 2017
The first sun shines at half past four
The red dirt makes a grass-less floor
This is a life of unique brand
For him they call "the Kimberley man".

The fans are never cool enough
On leathered skin built Kimberley tough
But how do you tell the tourist fleet
You never get used to Kimberley heat.

But there's a thinking that takes it slow
In rhythm with Ord River's flow
There's more to life than comfort and money
Like fishing for Barra without the hurry.

Albino gekko's' eat the flys
While the blue tailed kooka's laughs and crys
Crocs and dragons and wallabies too
Live with the Owl who gives two hoots.

The Kimberley man is silently proud
Like a Kimberley king with a Kimberley crown
Of views a virtuoso would say
Is fit for a concert that he would play.

Wet season build up is only released
By cracking black clouds that sets you free
From humid sighs in front of the fan
And the unsaid life of the Kimberley man.
My son lives in the Kimberley in the outback of Australia...a true Kimberley man
42 · Jul 2017
The darker the better
Peter Hall Jul 2017
Hiding under her blankets
The darker the better
....presses her button to drop the blinds
The darker the better.

The only light comes from the flicker of the horror movie
Where the hellovision screen is her mirror...it makes her feel at home.

Her clothes fit her well;
- Aching uncertainty
- Dark forebodings
- Tender pessimism
The mirror keeps reminding her.

The bottle of emptied Johnny Walker speaks:
"You've stopped walking",
The dropped blind says
"You've stopped seeing",
The mirror confirms:
"This is what you've become".

The arteries have hardened...her heart pumps without a beat.

With the press of a button
The blind can go up
The screen can stop its lies
The heater could fire up.

But in her caged freedom...
She has made her choice.

Her eyes narrow as she focuses harder on the screen...

The darker the better
Note: this is a description of a women in her late 20's who lodged with a friend. This was her life in her room; empty whisky bottles, watching depressing shows on her Netflix account as she curls under her blankets. She was offered help, and a new identity in Christ....but she made her choice. How many more are there like her ?.
38 · Jul 2017
Fish 'n' Chips
Peter Hall Jul 2017
Fish 'n' chips on the Clyde
Fish 'n' chips on the side
Fish 'n' chips with too much salt
Fish 'n' chips and watching boats
Fish 'n' chips and sunny clouds
Fish 'n' chips and funny crowds
Fish 'n' chips and ugly dogs
Fish 'n' chips without the smog
Fish 'n' chips and coffee cold
Fish 'n' chips where ice cream sold
Fish 'n' chips where joggers sweat
Fish 'n' chips on wet park bench
Fish 'n' chips where sea gulls swoop
Fish 'n' chips where sea gulls poop
Fish 'n' chips with nip on the nose
Fish 'n' chips with nip on the toes
Fish 'n' chips is rubbish food, but
Fish 'n' chips taste so good
Fish 'n' chips and mountain sides
Fish 'n' chips on the Clyde !.
Sometimes, poetry is meant to be heard and not read...

The Clyde is the Clyde river in Western Scotland
Peter Hall Jul 2017
Lipstick smears on her centre piece
That was botoxed till it's a crime
It's time for the Friday night ritual
To make it past closing time.

There's no way to beat the boredom
The emotion instructs the mind
Unless you keep the tradition
To play way past closing time.

Though she thinks she is hot
The size of her dress belies
The cold that is hers outside
Way past the closing time.

She loves the super attention
But knows it's a deep as their eye
But she takes it while it's on offer
Hopes it lasts until closing time.

Her subjects begin to leave
Bellies full of alcohol slime
Emptiness begins to fill her
Cos she knows that it's closing time.

The taxi ride home seems a blur
As the keys let her stagger inside
So she can do it again
That's the promise of closing time.
32 · Jul 2017
A slowish burn
Peter Hall Jul 2017
Line upon line
Faith upon faith
We are transformed
Grace upon grace.

By faith and patience
We inherit
Promises given
Gradually cherished.

First the seed
Then the stem
His Word & Spirit
Fills the head.

A slowish burn
From the Seed
And soiled turned.
Mark 4:28 "For the earth yields crops by itself: first the blade, then the head, after that the full grain in the head"
31 · Jul 2017
A slowish burn
Peter Hall Jul 2017
I am the snow
I come and go
With a melted soul
I make rivers flow.

I am the storm
I'm cold and warm
I quickly change form
So I can transform.

I am the sea
I am the deep
I'm life underneath
So I am carefree.

I am the sun
Never outdone
Clouds cannot shun
What I have begun.

I am the rain
Droughts never gain
I feed food chains
I don't stay in drains.

I am the clouds
Constant sky shrouds
Love being in a crowd
Black & white proud.

I'm what is seen
The Mother Earth queen
A spiritual cuisine
Can you see what I mean ?.
31 · Jul 2017
A soldier of the cross
Peter Hall Jul 2017
A soldier of the cross
Knows the fiery darts
That try to cut through truth
To wound the softened heart,
The breastplate does its job
Protecting bloodied faith
Paid for by the One
Who loves to keep it safe.

A soldier of the cross
Holds up steely shields
Protecting the whole body
The Holy Spirit seals,
From enemy attack
And what the scoundrel shoots:
Accusing, constant lies
Without an ounce of truth.

A soldier of the cross
Hardness often endures
Draws from Who's within
To rest and feel secure,
For the Captain of the Army
Is powerful and wise
To use the enemy's war
For a soldier's good and right.

A soldier of the cross
Exhibits bodily marks
Resembling the same
As the murdered Christ,
The wounds become a badge
Never hidden in a drawer
He might lose a few battles
But will never lose the war.
31 · Jul 2017
Bored on life street
Peter Hall Jul 2017
People walking down town on Life Street
With apple earphones in their ears,
Blocking out the noise of the traffic
Contemplating dealing with their fears,
They look for bling while window shopping
To brighten up the mask they made themselves
Trying to fill empty lives with something
But there's nothing on the shelves.

How long before they will realize
That road has nothing in their stores,
Nothing that will give the satisfaction
To take away the reason they're bored,
The things that they thought would be so exciting
Has made them see that they have learnt,
The only thing Life street has to offer
Was the law of diminishing returns.

But they just keep on window shopping
Even though they know it is absurd,
Because that's the way the ants keep on creeping
And they want to keep up with the herd,
So they learn to enjoy the numbing boredom
Because they know nothing else,
While hoping something just appears
Around the corner on the next shelf.

But there will always be another fashion
That will tickle boredom's itch,
And give them strength to keep on walking
While keeping fashion houses rich,
But changing wives and cars and horses
Or wishing they were thin or tall,
Will just defer the problem
That they are just plain bored.
26 · Jul 2017
Yelling at a flower
Peter Hall Jul 2017
Yelling at a flower
Doesn't make it grow
It won't grow any higher
If it's feeling low
Anger changes little
Just keeps the status quo
Yelling at a flower
Doesn't make it grow.

Yelling at a flower
Doesn't make it grow
The still voice of the Spirit
Is wisdom put on show
You can't get light from darkness
You can't get heat from snow
Yelling at a flower
Doesn't make it grow.

— The End —