Fill Me

How we long to see as he sees
Oh how we long for his eyes
But they will not help you in anything
If you don't first have his life.

Draw me the water of life
Jesus, draw me a cup from your well
Mine is so dry and so shallow
Yet yours does ever flow.

Keep my cup full,
overflow me Jesus,
Keep my cup full,
Overflow me.
Drown out what's left
Of my sorry flesh,
And unleash on me your torrent of love.

For your water is life! Sweet eternity.
My mouth is parched from this world.

Your water is life, oh Lord pour through me, your waters to give me life

A Painful Cry

The world is a cheap bottle of wine

being emptied all the time into

the stomachs of sinners

wasting their lives.

The world is a hollow glass corpse,

a whore—

she always dissatisfies;

She lies, she lies—

To live for her is painstaking suicide.

Tell me that this is not your life.

I dare you— tell me that this is not your life.

The world is decaying, and everybody knows.

They try to save that which was never very good.

It’s ‘cause they’ve made her their home,

and they’re sitting on her throne

and they know they’re going down together

into the pits of death forever.                    (Wake up and hear)

INTO THE PITS OF DEATH FOREVER—

She is a cheap bottle of wine

being emptied all the time into

the stomachs of sinners

wasting their lives.

She is a hollow glass corpse,

A whore—

She always dissatisfies;

She lies, she lies—

To live for her is painstaking suicide—

Turn away from her while there is still time.

Come drink from the only one who satisfies.

Oh come quickly you’re running out of time.

Oh come quickly, oh come be filled with life.

Oh come quickly you’re running out of time.

Oh come quickly, oh come be filled with life.

Are you Saved?

The rain falls like ghosts
on the streets that are gray,
tapping heels like the dancers
of hell's sin parade,
laughing and cooing and counting
their slaves,
the addicts to flesh
who think they are saved.

And the saints, how they long
in distress of the fate
that so many helpless sinner's await.
Their loved ones and siblings
and children await.

The saints,
how they anguish
and pray
and wait.

How Far Will Our Souls Bend?

It’s a beautiful day outside, and I find that life becomes immediately boring when you no longer control anything. Of course, control is rather illusory, as it only exists for as long as it would like, and vanishes the moment it seems most desirable. Control can be purchased with money, but when you have money, control isn’t necessary, and when money is scarce, one desires control. In a sense control is money. So really money is illusory, as it only has values because of the almost unanimous agreement that it has value. As soon as enough people change their minds, money will no longer be in control. So control is really an agreement on something that, quite frankly, hasn’t been fairly discussed.

Come to think of it, the very existence of money as a means of control is absurd. It’s a creation that gets all of its value because it represents something else, and it represents something else because you and I agree that it does. This seemed preposterous, so a generation of Americans went into $60k of debt, hoping to attain something more useful than money. The irony, of course, is that in order to make money, we all had to pay for something that we could not afford without the very object we were paying for. That is to say, in order to make money, it helps to have a college degree. With a college degree, it becomes possible to pay for college. And I might go to college and fail to get a job! I have to shell out the $$ just to have a chance. So really, going to college is like gambling. People call it an investment because they would rather live lies than reality.

College is like gambling, only it’s worse. In gambling, you can only lose what you have. In college you gamble 40, 50, or 100 thousand dollars on a degree. Seems more like a trade than a gamble? Well, not if your college proceeds to open your eyes to the evil of money. My college did something like this. They gave me lots of candy. And when the candy had taken complete control over my life, they told me that candy was a drug, and that I ought to fight against it. Of course, one must wonder why they waited until the drugs had taken all control, and why they went about giving me this information in such a sadistic way.

Information learned in college: people die every day because other people, like Americans (you and me), are selfish. Solution: give up the “American dream and make change!” Make change. You weren’t kidding. Turns out important things aren’t worth more than pocket change. I know because those good things make a living on pocket change. People only pay you to do things like feed gluttons and watch the poor die hungry... How sad.

Now pay up, Bucko! I want my 60k’s. I don’t care if you have to kill babies, just give my money. Yes, of course I’m against abortion, but I’m more against you not paying up! What’s that? You want to save young children… Does it pay? Oh no, we have an activist on our hands. It seems like that college actually gave him some good ideas. Make sure not to pay him much for that little non-profit work. That will keep him from making any important changes.

You got some great skills kid. I hear you want to make a positive change in the world. If you help me destroy the world for a few years, then we will let you go free to save the world in any way you desire. But you are going to have to have a car to work this job, and nice business suits. And you will enjoy our golfing trips on Sundays. Don’t worry about the poor now, brother. We’ll take care of you nice and good. You’ll forget about those dirty people on the side of the road. By the way, they chose their path in life. Apparently they weren’t into golfing, business suits, money, killing babies, or eating candy. Everyone knows it’s much easier to access all the candy you want when you where a business suit and make the Big bucks. What’s that? People are dying, yes, you’re right. It’s a harsh world out there. God sure did bless America. I wonder what the hell the rest of this world did to deserve such misery. We better fill up on what God gave us pal. It would be utterly sinful to deny such blessings, and waste our time wishing some hobo could indulge for more than some change.

“Other-Worldly Love”

There is love sobbing salty monologues
on Tsunami’s scathed beaches, and Katrina’s
soul leeches, and Nature’s rebellious future.

There is love in graffiti sticking to city side streets,
causing every city walker to acknowledge sweet,
sweet vandalism.

There is love in the throbbing of bell towers
on every hour hammering every ear to remind
souls that Forever is passing and forthcoming.

There is love in the blind man’s eyes—
Where people rot, in the sun-dried belly
where music is a prolonged funeral march.

There is love where grass has forgotten
that rain wasn’t always bloody bullets.
There is love in bullets.

There is love
loving death to deaths end.
Come and see
where love is real
and doesn’t know any end.

“The Narrow Way”

Luminous outcove
I strove to escape your coals
but death made it hard.

Rainbows in ashes,
I’m compelled by the blood seal
on your sky hilltop.

It’s a tight rope life,
it’s a sprint or it’s a fall,
an eternal fall.

I taste honey stars
and the world fades to a grey
luminous outcove.

Humorous Poem

Alright... In person I will vehemently defend my position that groceries don't really exist. On my blog, I will simply post this poem...


“Mr. York Explains Divorce to a Cat While in a Grocery Store’s Shampoo Section”

You see Cat, it’s just like the groceries.
Nobody really knows what divorce is.
Nobody really knows what a grocery is.
Is shampoo a grocery?
Honestly, is any single thing a grocery,
Or are there only…
groceries?

There might be sense to make of divorce,
similar to the sense of death. You know Cat?
Imagine letting all the sparrows live—
The world just wouldn’t be real...
and groceries wouldn’t be groceries.

I’m going back to my coconut Suave,
you know Cat? There’s nothing more real
than 3 months of clean hair for 89 cents.
Then we’ll go over to the cheap kitty litter.
that’s why it works with us, you know Cat?

We know the truth, how groceries
are fake! I never really agreed with the idea
myself. It’s always been the world, forcing
it on me. But we know… Cat.
There are no groceries.
Just Coconut Suave and kitty litter.

POEMS!

I have a lot of poems to post... I hope you guys enjoy them a bit. I'll start with a series of three poems about Judas Iscariot...

“Prayer of Betrayal”

Prince of this world, learn mercy fast.
Rid me of this screeching spirit.
Restrict the reins of my seething tongue.
Let me escape

before I hang
from your ancient rope of lies,
your slick, legless mass
coiled around my throat.

Oh deliver me,
dead God!

Not my will master,
But your will
Be done.


“Farewell: Iscariot’s Descent”

In death who knows to rest?
Who has lied about its peace?
Of morose and lonesome tragedies,
death seems furthest from the least.

From the moment of one’s death,
who can in any way abstain?
Who’s to say forever, there
a man will not remain?
To death won’t every theory
of death seem rather futile?
Won’t life’s wisdom die in death,
Where life’s thoughts are juvenile?
In death who is to speculate
that torture won’t endure,
and depths from the darkest night
won’t reign forevermore?

For Death has never heard of rest,
Nor has Death considered peace,
but in Death one thing is certain,
In Death— the life of man will cease.


“Iscariot’s Last Recollection”

I stood outside the train wreck
And met my twin:
Twisted steel eating death.

The unquenchable sewers drank
dirty blood. Bystanders gloated:
their eyes, all awe-struck
and death hungry.

Sulfur pours down
from the hemorrhaging moon.
The stars leak acid.
The sun is gone.

I stand alone outside the wreck
and meet my twin:
Satan.

Feel Better Moon

I challenged the moon
smiling on empty
and I saw his smile wouldn’t be
if it wasn’t for that black bulge
weighing him down
and I felt a little better.

Oh Jesus, Sweet Jesus

I cannot undress my heart in light.
Darkness, shelter darkness, find
a cave to hide this heart of mine.

I cannot speak in honesty nor write.
Rain, shelter rain, find
a storm to drown this voice of mine.

I cannot cure my spirit’s endless plight.
Death, shelter death, find
a space to match this void of mine.

I cannot survive in life tonight.
Oh Jesus, sweet Jesus, find
a way to save me one more time.

I can praise God under the sun,
under the hell this earth’s become,
and I can hope beyond the grave,
that I will live where restoration reigns,
and while I’m weak, I still will boast,
of the Lord I serve from my post.
With the strength provided from His well,
that overflows my earthly shell,
I will live, and breathe, and think and love,
Forever for my King above!