Sunday is a day of rest
when you work at home to make it the best

Sunday is a day of peace
but in pointless wars killing does not cease

Sunday is a day to recover
from one too many drinks plus another

Sunday is laying late in bed
but the kids ned to be washed and fed

Sunday is a walk in the park
with thousands of others, it's best after dark

Sunday is family time
that you spend in the company of partners in crime

Sunday what more can I say
a day of rest before another working day

Palm Sunday  
Voices bellow loud hosannas; palms wave vibrantly
The gentle humble King rides through the city gate,  
The crowd extolls, not knowing what will come.  

Holy Monday  
He casts the merchants from the temple's court,  
Coins clatter like thunder in the dust,  
A sacred grief ignites within His soul.  

Holy Tuesday  
He teaches truth where traps are slyly laid,  
With kind eyes and a steady, gentle voice,  
He sows the seeds of justice, sharp as blades.  

Spy Wednesday  
He is touched by shadowed, silvered hands,  
One kiss is weighed against the world’s regret,  
The hush that falls before the hammer strikes.  

Maundy Thursday  
He breaks the bread and offers up the cup,  
A basin, towel—He stoops to serve them all,  
The garden waits beneath a sleepless moon.  

Good Friday  
The sky goes black at His forsaken cry,  
The nails resound where silence should have been,  
His cross stands rooted in sacred holy ground.  

Holy Saturday  
The grave is sealed beneath a silent hill,  
No word breaks through the stillness of the dark,  
All heaven holds its breath beneath the weight.  

Easter Sunday  
The earth exhales as angels roll the dawn,  
He rises, bearing everything broken,  
Joy bursts forth—exalt Jesus!  Christ is risen indeed.!

Sunday, the lads are on the pitch
they were ****** the night before
the other side look just as bad
not sure any are fit to score

The whistles blown, the ball is kicked
three players chase concentration on their faces
The keepers are leaning on goalposts
and seventeen are tying their laces

Number nine is running at goal
He must score, it's in the bag
the ball soars past the goalie
and hits the corner flag

By the half time wistle
there was one red card and four yellow
players were crawling off the pitch
the supporters were less than mellow

The full time score was a one all draw
the Ref blew for full time
the players headed for the bar
Twenty one pints and a lager and lime

Match clebrations went on for hours
though neither side had won
next Sunday they would play again
only to draw again, one, one

They called it ruin, wreck, and waste – my life that was…
But I was walking into grace.  
The smoke they saw was burning lies,  
While I looked upward, I cleared my eyes

I walked through the smoke, the heat, and the ash – but not alone…
Christ met me where the flames had grown.  
He didn’t flinch, With outstretched hand He pulled me free,  
And rewrote all my history.  

So let them talk – I serve the King,  
Not bound by guilt or suffering.  
My life is His, made clean, made new,  
Flames of mercy burning through.

This time was too much,
We argued, argued,
We're both sick of it,
So we should take a break,
The next time I hear from her will be Sunday,
I didn't want to ***** things up,
We were angry,
I was scared,
We were low,
I was immature,
But I hope this is good for us,

Please don't leave for someone else,
When we're taking our breather,
I can't afford to lose you,

Please say,

Tty Sunday

what is our purpose, if not to help,
why do we say these things, when they're not felt,
so focused on our next big break,
we've forgotten everyone it takes.

not meant to sit alone, meant to stand & test,
for those who refuse, for those who can't,
our helping hands only help so much,
set up against social norms & Picassos,
left to bludgeon, burgeon & bargain,
still only to be second best,
what Einstein life is this,
not one we lose to win.

Am I really a good person?
I have a moral voice, but is it mine?
Was it forced upon me or given as a gift?
Am I just Objectively good and emotionally bad?
Or the other way around?
Was it simply the song I grew up hearing in my head and never forgot?
Was I simply brain washed into being moral?
Am I really that moral or have I just been around it my whole life?
Or - was no one around me truly moral and I was the opposite?
Is that why I've never understood their morals?
What if I'm so good at lying to myself that I don't even know it?
What if I die, and my soul is the bad part of me?