This part of my life is so long its beginning to seem like a phase
When the hours see sunlight each day to become months.
I wonder when it would be over, but dread what is next.
I hope there is goodness in store for what is up ahead in the forbidden future

I wish I knew what the name is for this stage of life I’m in.
I hope it would a good one, one that shows my growth.
But what if this is the lower parts of my existence?
I hope this history will be kind to me because I intend to document it.

I’ve already begun to journal it, and so far it seems a little grim.
But today was a good day, and that is an upside of life.
The good days add up to great weeks, which make for a good journal.
And a good journal makes for an excellent memoir, by me.

If you still got that look in your eye, you better blink twice.
Because I am a lot of things, and one of them is to think nice.
You said that you would be there to be beside and care for me.
I don’t mean to sound old fashioned but where art thee.
I couldn’t find you on the Facebooklist or the Instagrammys.
But I just wanted to contact you so you could understand me.
If I could write you a love poem, I would start with this premise.
You are the soul that goes into every one of my life sentence.
And I would conclude with this closing thought from above too.
You don’t have to say He loves me not because  I love you.

They used wood to put my Jesus on the cross
And ropes from plants to keep him there.
Oh God, my god, he used to work with wood.
He was taught wood work by his father.
And mandated by his heavenly father to stay on wood.
God had wood-work of his own to do.
The Son of Man had to be carved for God’s righteous purpose.
So that the works of sin may be fully ended.
The wood is work Jesus must not abandon
Metal spikes were driven into his wrists
That was a painful drive
As if to say you cant go anyway.
The Jesus who came to the city on the donkey
Would leave the city a dead king.

They slayed my King of Kings
It even says it in the cross.
Why did they assassinate him?
Many men would want to be made God.
My God was killed like a man.
One crown of thorns put in his head.
His head bleeds with royal red.
It drips down his beard and onto his body.
They crowned him but what a throne?
A cross is an instrument of death
It should not be the throneroom to the King of Kings.
They pierced his side.
Soldiers which should protect the King
Were tasked with killing him
That was their job today, to **** God.
Not worship him, **** him.
Not serve him, **** him.
So they put it in his side.

But God could not stay dead.
They took his body away.
Away from where his ancestors were buried.
Now they used stone to keep him in place.
But the stone must yield
To the Cornerstone.
The stone was rolled away.
But the cornerstone cut without hands.
Got up and walked away from the tomb
So now we are free.
God worked with that wood
Because he is the divine carpenter.
He worked with the stone.
Because God is amazing.
Get it? A mason.
God is a mason
And my Jesus could not stay dead.

Two prayers
One said on the Mount
Called the Lord’s Prayer
The other said in the Garden of Gethsemane
That was simply God calling out to his God.
You see, man had to learn how to pray
That is why we have the Lord’s Prayer.
But man also needed a perfect example of what prayer looks like.
Thus, the Garden of Gethsemane.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus sweat blood.
His forehead began the sacrifice which the rest of his body would later.
When the crown of thorns was placed on top of his head.
In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus said to forgive.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus was forgiveness.
In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus said thy Kingdom come.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, he is bringing forth the Kingdom.
I wonder how the height of the mountain
Could compare with the cool lusciousness of the garden.
As he stepped in the Garden, he stepped on his own blood.
The footing was slippery
The footing was messy
The footing was not at all like the Mount
Where rocks provided sturdy footing.
But in order to get to the Cross, he had to get to the Garden.
Because the Garden was where he would be arrested
Not just in the Mount where he would be a Teacher.
In the Garden, Jesus was a wanted man.
Wanted by man, because of his claims to be God.
But also wanted by man, because he is the Son of God.

God gathered all of the hosts of heaven.
And asked, Who is ready to redeem my people?
Michael spoke up quickly and said, Not I.
I am a commander, not a redeemer
Besides, when I confronted Satan over Moses’ body.
I said, the Lord rebuke you.
Whoever is Lord is worthy to redeem your people.
God turned to Gabriel
And Gabriel also turned away and said, Not I.
I am a messenger.
I will bring good news of the coming of the Lord.
God turned to John the Baptist
And John the Baptist turned away and said, Not I
The one who is Faithful and True I am not worthy
To even untie his sandals
Must less take his place.
Somewhere in the background an apostle is weeping
Because he does not know where salvation is coming.
Suddenly God stirs.
And out of God comes Salvation, Glory and Honor.
Everyone rejoices
Because the Lord Jesus was the one who saw Satan fall from heaven.
At Michael’s hand.
The Lord Jesus was the one who came in anticipation of Gabriel.
And the Lord Jesus was the one who is the Prince of Peace.
And the Commander in Chief of the Lord’s Army.
He is worthy to take the scroll and open it.
The apostle rejoiced.
Because redemption has come.

I love the way she grins lopsided at me.
The way her uneven grin looks is so appealing.
Her mouth moves up and down like roadwork
Her eyes twinkle at me, one green and one brown.
Her hair is parted to one side, and move to the other as if to say yes.
Her kindness is like mercy to mankind.
Her hands hold mine, and I feel like I’m a man in paradise.
I’m the luckiest man alive.
She stands up and I see her in all her beauty.
You could not name this beauty
I just have to be in awe of it.
Mystique walks with every step of her intentions.
Suddenly she opens her mouth to say
You should really decide between the tacos and the pizza honey I’m hungry.
©

I stand on grace, to arm the strife of man.
They call me lust, I say I’m what you want.
The Greeks will say I’m God, to rule the land.
Retreat and make me ghosts to fear and haunt.

In highest skies, in deepest seas, I launch
I can be pictures, thoughts or just a word
In dreams ******, I can also be taunt.
You look around to see, if you just heard.

I can go where no flying thing can, even the bird.
You hide your seen, disguise yourself from friends.
You fear to get revealed, it seems absurd
You always will think, this seen has no end.

The one ticket is to just throw it away.
And once it’s left, it feels like a new day.