Is grace being treated lightly
Are the leaders
Minsters of church of Scotland
some not all
In the church of assembly
Not truely living like the bible commands.
God clearly points out
If we continue to live like
this we will not inherit the
Kingdom of God.
If you see a hawk
on a bough at field's edge
beyond the corner you should have turned
maybe it's a sign to go on.
Such as during an improvisation on
Flamingo or I've Got You Under My Skin
you play in the wrong key or mode completely
maybe it's a sign to go on, in the wrong key.
Or when my sons cry not wanting
to be alone, I'm upstairs writing
or just enjoying trees in every direction
it too may be a sign to go on alone.
There are few bottlebrush trees here,
A couple grew in front of our house,
The entrance to our house they guard.
When it is season for them,
They bloom very lavishly,
Even striking is one's stem.
It was pecked upon by a woodpecker,
The stem's bark finally gave away slowly.
By the end of October '06,
The hollow was readied,
The woodpecker moved in.
It gave shelter to the two birds initially,
The male & the female woodpeckers,
They stayed there for a complete season.
Saw their family grow,
From just the parents,
It even had chicks now.
The chicks grew fast under parental care,
I even listened to their infant chirping,
Saw the parents flying to get forage not so rare.
Then one day a snake slithered,
Until that hollow, it climbed,
The woodpeckers made a lot of noise.
They both screeched repeatedly,
But their cries were useless,
They could not scare away the snake.
The serpent then came out after few hours,
Now the crawling was sluggishly lazy,
Its mouth smeared with gooey young feathers.
The family had been destroyed,
An eerie silence shrouded the hollow,
The woodpecker chicks were dead.
Soon, an eagle had hunted the snake,
Hovering in the sky it spotted it,
Grabbed it when in the sunlight it basked.
Now the woodpeckers were gone,
Probably in search of a new tree,
A new tree where a snake won't come.
As for the tree's hollow,
It made a new home,
For a parrot species this time.
And time knows that change will descend,
Even the parrots will desert the hollow,
They will leave in search of the better greens.
Maybe a family of owls will come in the end,
It will be a long-time home, the hollow,
For owls are known to fill all the vacancies.
Driving along then a heard a murmur and the
hairs on my neck crept up,
I looked behind.....
Seeing myself in the back seat, "Don't turn around,
I reacted in fright, I angled my view to see
nothing before my eyes?
Swinging back, I saw lights eclipsing in my sight,
then the impact. I awoke up in the back seat, the force
had severed me from my seat, I was disembowelled.
As my life bled out I looked in the rear view mirror
"Don't turn around,
Miles and minutes
Trading time for a timeline
I'd rather not finish
Stick it out and ill be fine
Metal matter flowing far below me
It must be the high tide I love to race
Encroaching, live for the second
Barely alive but still doing fine
Seperate my body and mind
Laughing as everyone else, doing their best to undermine
As i stick my wheels to the curb
Screw four wheel drive
One more dead end suburb
I lost any reason i had left to strive
But im still right here
I havent moved in so damn long
In the seat of my car
Still hearing the same damn songs
Still partaking in life as it may come
Still drinking gas station pop
I was told the world would pass me by
But turns out my world follows me
And I dont mind
Passing their world by
Space seems so far away
And im still worried about words
Ideas die when action is taken
Stones are broken as we discern
Rebuilding feels so akin
To leaving no stone unturned
And as my temepered glass view finder
Drifts father through the rubble
I can see promise
And i can see the death of each and every one of them
With mind turning ever slight
Hands on the wheel
And no arm of yours in sight
To be wrapped around this old arm of mine
I will drive on out
Into the night
Into the unknown of the next good day
As I praise his name
And drive on by
With a questioning mind out loud in my
Ever turning inward sight
A turn of the torso in the hall
Be it to look back or forward
Past or beyond the past
Is not necessarily wrong at all
Unless of course the owner of the turn
Is twisting therein arrogance
Or with an unsettling voice
Which demeans all others in the hall
But if such a twisting diaphragm can actually sing
Then arrogance is more all the more tolerable
And not so much a problem at all
Because the sound will be beautiful
Even if the character is not beautiful at all
Find what you can't express
and pin it down in words
Find what you can't see
and fabricate it in fantasies
Find what you can't feel
and embody it in adventures
Find what you can't speak
and let your eyes vocalize
Find what you "can't"
and challenge yourself
Find what you "never"
and take it a step further