Magdala

Magdala
9-28-18

In the Greek our Apollimi
Sin of the week and more baloney out of regional Sidon and Tyre
And still you resist as still you harden your heart
As to pardon the horse and her cart trying too hard to do my own part
So what's it going to be today
So you say, "I don't know"
And are answered with, "O, yea and nay, wrong answer"
Back to the region of Magdala
God looks upon what one could yet but become
And such is my meat to do His will and not to spill nor kill
Look how my brother works in Apollumi
Seven and a few little fish as the diagnosis
Of the heart of man
By waves and waves of peacefulness
My story of midlife.....





Nose Bigger Than My Palate
9-28-18

Nose bigger than my palate
O, racket and O, mallet
The waiting is the hardest part
Given a taste of patience last night I cried Abba Father please stop
And so it happens again
Nice to get away from it for a little while
It's a wonder I knew not thunder
For spoil and plunder
Drawing near to Him by his mouth
All for our Syro-Phonecian
You all are invited when it is evening
You say, nice display as never again to betray
O how it makes us shudder
But who's we up in our tree
Giving it to the multitude
That's all he wrote....






Camel And Gnat
9-28-18

Usual pattern back to the grind
The last thing I want is more of mind
God, please be kind
And be not just a trinket around my neck
O, what the heck
On the way leading us through the churchyard
Near to me and my mouth smelling like a chimney
As children's bread is tossed to little dogs sitting like an angel
As to write this song it could be worse
Text reads madman in Grimm's fairy stories and more perfections
In its glories as to learn what shuddering is
O, write on for the bite almost gone
O, beware the leaven of bread piling up on our southeast corner
As to lose my blues
O, you of little faith as to travel far
All in this one
Dear, sole obsession
As to swallow a camel and strain a gnat....





Pseudo Lame
9-28-18

I don't see what the ruin is
In all of that crazy biz
As you made me lonely but I have no one to blame
For the near-shame in this wicked game and pseudo lame
And I'm lonely but I never get bored with the world right before us
It's time to go all raring as dreams are lightning and thunder desire trying
To get used to going without it up till the last minute as cooled in heaven
Power to you making her a poster up in puzzle pieces
And I've been rambling on for the sphere of my Christian profession
Dying to put a stop to it
Who do you say that I am
In lesser and latter known tales
As to triumph over evil and just two more cups before I go
Turn, turn!







On Matthew 16:17
9-28-18

As to be but managed in keeping circuits clean
Of all sediment for hobo intrusion ten times
When it rends you
Two more cups
Blessed art thou Simon-Barjona
If I have been unkind
I hope that you can just let it go
As one to earn ones bread like a beast with its horn
And when I return a million surprises
Put it behind you, please
Trying to remember no such ado
Of when I was ten years younger
Seeming to have presided in late lady's mirror
I see myself much clearer like fishes that change gender
As to not be apt to please everyone
Feeling like turning into gold
O, the things of men
We try to pull our way on through
Indeed if it could be managed
As soldiers come around to it.....