050724

Ilang araw na akong namamahinga
At napapaisip ako sa Iyong pagbabalik.
Nais ko nang umuwi —
Nais ko nang magpasakop sa Liwanag.

Ang mga kapagalan ,
Ay magiging luma kinabukasan
At sa pagsipol ng hanging humihinga sa Lilim
Ay mapapawi ang anumang pait
Na mitsa ng pagkagunaw ng bawat pananaw.

Hahalik sa Kanyang mga palad
Na tila walang ibang iniirog —
Walang ibang sandata
Kundi ang pamanang
Yaman ay matatagpuan sa Kanyang mga Salita.

At walang silid na makakalimot
Sa mga burda ng Kanyang pagkalinga.
Lilisan at magbabalik —
Paparating na Siya.

Quhat doe yowe call a king that's first and sixt?
Yow call him Gods appointed King; King James;
The King of Ireland, Scotland, and England, mixt;
The King of riuers Shannon, Tay, and Thames.
God saue the King, the faithfull King who claimes
For Christ the King the Ingliche written word
And lifts the name aboue all other names
VVho is the Lord of euery other lord.
The King of kings, the word that's als a sword
Diuiding soule from spirite as flesh from bone,
Hath made himselfe with James of one accord
And plac'd the monarch James upon his throne.
The booke of James by God is avthoriz'd
And hath no neede to euer be reviz'd.

The King sits on his throne
After another long day of work
Resting
Providing for the people
Deciding for the people
His hand reaches to the outskirts of his kingdom
To call his reign tyranny would be absurd
For who would question a leader who benefits most from their own decisions?
And who wouldn't be happy to have to toil a little more when mistakes are made and his lack of care becomes purposeful?
And when his entitlement to the land that he tires himself for day in and day out means that you cannot question his perfect authority, cannot begin to even suggest discussing his non-existent faults?
For people these days do not want to hear advice, do not wish to work hard enough, are lazy, and if these words come out as harsh when you're trying your hardest, that means you can't handle the truth and no other truth exists but that of the one and only royal Highness.

For what plants grow under shadow,
And what trees stand tall without roots firm in the ground?

What should the King do when the people lose their will and turn their backs on what security that has been offered to them

Christmas can be a time
when families get together:
Young children scream, wine glasses gleam,
waiting for M&S dinner.

The TV's in the corner
rerunning Home Alone,
Heart radio's in the kitchen,
Chris Rea's driving home,
again.

The toddlers find the wrapping
more engaging than the Duplo
Teen couples find the company
less of interest than their own.

The dog's confused and excited
with so many different sources
of scratches and pats, she can't relax,
her whining is remorseless.

Christmas can be a time
when families are missed,
the parcel made last post
winging off to little sis.

Zoom will come in handy
to laugh across the miles,
the screen will mask the tears
and focus on the smiles.

Christmas can be a time
when budgets get stretched tight,
cash pressures get to breaking point
and prompt senseless fights.

Some focus on opportunity
to spend some gilt-free money,
the only prayers are for extra hours
and a faster Tesco trolley.

For others it's simply ' Yuletide'
an excessive celebration,
a winter feast, all you can eat,
give in to all temptation.

Most focus on the family,
even more on the gifts;
there's little time for Jesus
assigned amongst the myths.

Some do sing of Jesus
in half forgotten carols,
they know there's something more
than donkeys and angel heralds.

And there He is in the middle,
noticed once in a while;
it's His birthday, but all He's getting
is a half-hearted song and a smile.

But He's no longer a babe in a manger,
He's now a resurrected King,
And he waits for you who would worship
to stand and welcome Him in.

Christmas can be a time
for each of us to choose -
Our Christmas King stands waiting
Will we worship Him in truth?

you walk this earth
with nothing but pain
and yet you blossom
so beautifully—
a lotus in winter,
defying all odds
and all of nature.

you are more than
who you think you are.
a king without a throne,
a lion without a pride—
you can be either
without anything else
to your name.

i am not who birthed me,
and i will not apologize
for this space i consume.

i am not their mistake
and i will not mistake
kinship for love
any longer.

i will own myself
once and for all.

i stood witness
to a scene---
a king and queen,
their love serene.
a painter's dream;
a poet's delight;
their love aglow
in gentle night.
he leaned in close,
with lips so light,
upon her cheeks,
a tender flight---
the king's sweet smile,
a sunlit embrace;
the queen's fair blush,
a delicate trace.
how i wished
to hold still the air,
capture their love
in a canvas so rare
but love's vibrant palette
moves and evolves,
in the tapestry of time,
it resolves.
to paint their love
in hues so fine
is to capture the essence
of love's design.
in my strokes of paint,
in my shades of rhyme,
their story lives
beyond the confines of time.

Ω

What was known yet unseen
was a king and a dying queen
holding their last kiss good bye
That day the kiss died

He then ordered all his men
to bind all lovers in his den  
Every embrace ever lied
The day the kiss died

The Judge and the Law
all came to find flaw
In any poet or guide
The day the kiss died

Finding two lovers, that spoke
of how his and her lips broke
Evidence, they could not hide
The day the kiss died

They cried,
“We hold and we touch
yet it’s not enough in as much
a kiss can’t be denied”
The day the kiss died

With a kiss hid in their heart
They tore them apart
and took them aside
The day the kiss died

Children chanted, “the kiss of death
will draw your last breath.
Don’t or dare to no longer abide”
The day the kiss died

And all the people they wept
and the sweepers that swept
the sad streets, they sighed
The day the kiss died

In lace they all dressed
in hope to lay the last kiss to rest
In a coffin to confide
The day the kiss died

That night,
Artists repainted the sky
Lanterns hung high
In the black rain they cried
The day the kiss died

While white doves bled red
It was heard and it was said
even the angels cried
The day the kiss died

The clowns in all places
Painted a frown on their faces
for all grooms and the brides
The day the kiss died

Old widows slept as it seems
waiting for their dreams
nuns by their side
The day the kiss died

The romantics broke doors
of bottle shops and liquor stores
yet the wine had all dried
The day the kiss died

Yet, still up north and down south
lovers, for love, open their mouth
welcoming death near and wide
The day the kiss died