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Category Archives: Lion Scratch
A leader with no path
in isolation, desolation
Look for the center
Dare not enter
Corrupt creation, sure damnation
Feed the ego
Never let me go
Quiet frustration, desperation
How can love be?
Can One love me?
New foundation, restoration
Adrift in a sea of loneliness and despair
There is no land in sight. Why should I care?
This ocean of tears I made. It is my place to drown in it.
Perhaps when that day comes, peace will yet be found in it.
There’s a place I know. It’s a place I go
when I’ve nowhere else.
Shades of gray help me stay within the walls of sanity.
All is vanity.
Leave it for the rest.
Emotion, such a troublesome notion;
I prefer devotion to something I can understand.
A chip in the hand
is better than the shoulder
crushed beneath a boulder.
Let it roll away.
Retreat into the gray.
Survive another day.
I stand at the gates of Hell, holding to a sliver of hope that I may not enter. I look for You, but I cannot find You. Are You hiding? Why? I see Your words in black and white and black and white all turns to gray. What did You say?
Pollution clouds my vision and I cannot see the Son through the haze. Can I know Your ways? How many days, weeks, months, years, decades will it take to shake this fake and make him real. You got a raw deal. How do You feel?
Hope lives. Love gives. I will see You tomorrow, but can I borrow, a little joy for the sorrow of today? What do You say? A break in the clouds, a voice from the crowds, “I love you!” From places never guessed, You bring the best, and I’ve no time to be depressed.
Well-meaning platitudes pound like hailstones on a shelter already roofless by the storm. We offer them because they are all we have. Life giving water turned to ice, freezing the heart. Cold isolation drenched in tears that wash away even the memory of happiness. Where is hope? Where is the promise? Did we ever see it or was it an illusion? We must believe. We must hold on or be swept away by winds of disappointment. The storm passes. The sun shines, but it serves only to illuminate the destruction. Still we cling to hope, because life is precious. Jesus is that life and He shines brighter than the sun. We hope, and we live, because He l
I am in the pages
Of a magazine.
I am in the movies.
I’m in the party scene.
Find me on the city street.
Find me in the bar.
Find me sitting next to you
riding in your car.
You might even see me dancing on a church pew
It doesn’t really matter ’cause I can make you feel good.
I can make you feel good.
And you always knew I would.
Never question if I should
’cause I can make you feel good.
You can find me in a bottle.
You can find me on a plate.
You can find me passing everybody
on the interstate.
You can find me on the TV.
You can find me in a book.
You can find me waiting for you
everywhere you look.
It doesn’t matter how you find me.
Only that you do ’cause I can make you feel good.
You can find me in the church house.
I’m behind the microphone.
Put a tickle in your ear.
Never let the truth be known.
Listen to my pretty story
Listen to my pretty song.
I got the answer straight from God.
You know I’ll never do you wrong.
Maybe I don’t know myself.
You don’t care if I do.
The only thing that matters is I can make you feel good.
Conceived as a song with a funky pop beat
If every word that has been written were written on the sky, would the world see the sun? Man’s attempt to build the tower of Babel was thwarted by the Almighty. Man thinks to build it again with bricks of glue and paper.
If every word that man has spoken were spoken all at once, would the world be deafened by the noise? Every man caries his soap box. How often he fails to see that the contents of his platform would benefit from an application of the former contents of his platform, but it is so much easier to carry when empty.
A word is an abstract thing. When written, a mere collection of letters. When spoken, a collection of sounds. A word may be seen, heard, even felt, but of itself it has no substance. Yet our world is defined by words.
What a paradox is the word. Words in the mouth of one are priceless, while the same words in the mouth of another are worthless. They carry the power of destruction and the power of creation. They are a murderer’s knife and a surgeon’s scalpel. They are a deadly poison and a healing tonic.
Oh that we would learn to give value to our words, for the power of the word is in the speaker. How often we toss them around like refuse, taking no thought for where they may land. We expect others to except them as truth, but fail to honor them ourselves. In our anger we throw them at the ones we love, and then don’t understand why they throw them back at us. We see our own bleeding and still fail to understand that the same thing that wounded us also wounded them. We grow our thick skin, which, while it may be less easily damaged, is also less able to feel.
Where is the truth? If we construct an understanding of ourselves and our world with words, where is the foundation that would support such a structure? What an amazing thing, that the creator of the universe would choose as one way to define Himself, “The Word.” The Word brought the earth into existence. The Word created man in His own image. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” The Word is life to us. It is His power delivered to us through His words that provides a standard by which the value of all other words may be judged. The paradoxical word, personified, purified and glorified, is Jesus Himself.
May The Word be the master of your words from this day forward.
I wrote this little song shortly after Linda and I discovered our love for each other. I always imagined it with a happy folk melody. She the early riser would often have written me something before I got up. I would rush to my computer first thing to see if there was anything waiting for me.
Sleep, it has departed.
I really must get started
For I’m waiting for a letter from my love.
My love, who brings me joy in the morning
My love, who helps me make it through the day
Dreams I have while waking
There is just no mistaking
I’m waiting for a letter from my love.
A simple little letter
It makes the day much better
I’m waiting for a letter from my love.
My love who is the one that I’ve been missing
My love who makes me sing a happy song
My pillow in the floor
I’m running for the dor
For I’m waiting for a letter from my love.
I say a little prayer to
The One who gave me to you
As I’m waiting for a letter from my love.
Oh God who makes such sweet anticipation
Oh thank you for what you have done for me
My morning’s all aglow
For in my heart I know
That I’m waiting for a letter from my love.
I had a dream in shades of gray
When absent was the light of day
I walked an unfamiliar road
And gazed upon a strange abode
Came there from a voice I knew
Pleasant for there are so few
I thought to knock upon the door
And find a friendship to explore
Doubts and questions fill my mind
Is this joy for me to find?
At road’s end there is seclusion
Isolation and delusion
Among the trees I seek for peace
But cannot find the sweet release
Would not my friend be glad to know
That I had come to say hello?
I turn again to face the street
But there is water ‘round my feet
Gone the shelter of the trees
The water rises to my knees
The voice a distant memory
I am drowning in the sea
“Lord, I don’t know what to do!”
“Can’t You hear me calling you?”
Only a dream, but is it so?
So close it is to the life I know
Past, present, or yet to be
I do not know, I cannot see
The things we cannot say become the lies that eat away at what we have, what we want, and who we are.
The fear that we must hide grows stronger inside feeding on life, killing hope, strangling love.
A silent killing rage is kept within a cage biding its time, waiting for chance, destroying all good.
A love afraid to show, for if they know, there is pain; there is loss; there is despair.
The things we cannot say define our way; words our misdirection; they require correction; cloaking our dismay.