Dead Religion

How can you say
a person's soul has no spiritual value,
no place in your system?

How can I say 
your white bright sepulcher
is full of dead men’s bones?

You've worked so hard making it
a thing of beauty in your eyes.
Your fathers paid it homage
until...
it became...
in their eyes...
full of life...

Your salvation, 
laws and rules of dead men,
made giants,
totally missing the point.

Their righteousness,
acts of faith.
God's grace,
dead men can't give.

Keep your faith
inside this dead place,
working hard,
to keep it clean on the outside,
not allowing common fingerprints
to mar it's cleanness.

Believe you do God a favor.

Die to Self

"Die to self",
I herd them say.
The words seemed to echo
in their hollow heads.

Die to self,
I willingly did,
there was nothing more I could see to do.

I died to self
and lived for others,
pouring myself out
like the many droplets of water,
cascading to become a stream,
a river,
a water fall,
crashing down on the rocks below.

Trying to die to self,
I became dead to me.

Healing Touch

A midget...
passing through a land of giants.
I see men as trees walking.
Would that my master...
place his hands...
once again upon my eyes...
causing me to look up
and see every man clearly.

In Jesus Name

I ask for bread,
you give me an excuse
and a stony glare
on which to feed my starving soul.

I ask for water
to quench this burning thirst,
you pour it on my head
like anointing oil
telling me,
"You are free."
"Go and sin no more."

I ask you,
"Walk one mile with me?
You hand me shoes,
merely pointing the way.
I walk on alone.

I ask you,
"Come visit me, 
I am sick in this prison."
You send me cards
not wanting to look on my disease,
my confinement.

I ask for covering,
you will not even look
upon my naked soul...

Man Made Religion

Man's excuse for sin
being lost within.

Made up a plan,
found his goal,
to make himself
a righteous soul.

As always
the created sinks,
does not use
his own rules,
can not abide
in his self made groove.

Dug his own grave
now he must choose,
live by the book
he co-authored
or loose.

Bound by it's commandments,
he lives two lives,
one his truth,
the other,
a lie.

Where has he laid
his freedom to choose?
At the feet of religion,
he bows,
the fool.

A Marvelous Light

Out from the darkness 
To a marvelous light.
Out from the bondage
Of pain and fright.

Out from the bondage
Of slavery to man.
Out from the bondage
Of religions dark hand.

Out from the darkness
Now I can be
All that Christ Jesus 
Has called me to be.
No longer a slave 
To the laws of man.
Grace has set me free
Can you understand?

Religion

I Am a Minister,
listen to me.
Tithes and offerings, 
your duties,
will set you free.

I Am The Pope,
only I give hope
for salvation.
I Am immaculation.

I Am a Priest,
holding wisdom
so deep.
Let me speak to you
for God.

I Am Rabbi,
A Jew.
Better than you
by Abba's rule.

I Am a Pastor,
I stand in the place
of your master.
Submit to his rule,
let me lead you.

I Am religion,
Take your money,
claim your soul,
keep you working
for salvation
as you grow old.

I Am religion,
you and me.
The gods of truth,
we set captives free.

Do all that I say.
In heaven, 
maybe, 
you can stay.
Free....


This was not written to insult any religious groups but reflects how men 
ask other men to believe in them and trust them for their religious freedom. 
My warning is that if truth exists in your religion then you can find it with 
the god you worship not by relying on a man.

Sundays

Sundays...
I remember when they used to be sacred.

Until...
Your religion dismantled my faith...
piece by piece.

Little Temple

Little temple,
small and weak...
insecure in a hurried world.

Little temple, 
empty vessel...
full of ritual and form.

Fragile temple,
not formed by hand..
or the love of any man.

Holy place, 
filled with grace...
placed there by love alone you stand.

Empty place, 
waiting to be filled...
by the love of god and man.

A vessel of longing,
wanting to be...
a temple grand,
full of truth and light.

Perishing abode,
only a breath...
and time will have sealed your fate.

Walking on Water

Swimming through a lukewarm ocean,
Barely keeping my head above the waves.
Will I sink in a watery grave?

Floating on with your song. 
Adrift in my brain...
I can hardly keep my eyes on the light.
My tired mind is taking flight,
It is the only part of me 
that remembers..
How solid ground feels
And the way
Back to shore.
Truth?
I’ve forgotten the door
And the power I have inside
To rise above and glide.
To walk once more 
Upon water.

Untitled

The gates of the court yard
Have been barricaded...
Against little foxes
Who have spoiled the vines...
That once bore the sweetest fruit
And the rarest wines.

The garden, once open
Now walled.
The sent of spice 
No longer flows.

Nothing left to quench this thirst.
The fountain has been sealed.
Only dust remains.
Nothing but emptiness left to feel.