Sunday, June 01, 2008


In memory of the story of David,
a song of mourning, and rejoicing


The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:

::::::::::::::::::: Quiet::::::::::::::::::::::::, then

'This is my body, which is broken for you. Do this, in remembrance of me"


The sun shines on David
a mighty man of battle
a lover of peace who found no rest
except in the still coolness of you

You see,
In the quiet fields of a warrior's heart,
there are twenty three stories

Some of the stories have legs
that get up an walk to places that he has been
and can not go back to
And some of them stories have hands
that carry wounds pain and shame
this one has a name
and it is called

He restores my soul

This man, your servant,
who has slain the insurmountable
dismantled towering generals
has wept unmanly tears,
A small crushed petal of a smaller hand
boy from man

he has been walking through the valley of the shadow of his past
looking for the river Jordan
where he heard that healing could come up spring;
Looking for a right of way in the middle of the fair view

He is walking through past valiant victory
bereft from the flesh that tried so hard to push and crush
the flesh that was Word, and such
from the hole in his heart where he lays
his heart at your foot
swaddled in white linen
that maintains military silence even in the
rain of a great man's bitter tears

a great man of rank, in a small position;
this servant, this man with so much heart

he is magnificently
this man
breath of your breath,
yet so flesh of our flesh
looking for that ocean of quiet that will fill
the cup of wanton rest

lamenting the poor race he has run
knees bent, face bruised and bloody,
dirt caked with latent faith
the small stifled cry
please, don't take my son


that still small voice that was louder than
the resounding footsteps of giants long fallen
that cried out to him in the wilderness
defeated the armies of men and hid him from Saul
and the totality of enemies who saw him crowned king of them all

hope is the patient,
with a poor prognosis
getting fainter and fainter despite constant care

the same sinful bed he undressed her in
is the one in which he now lies, but can find no rest
the same battles he has fought with men who would give their life
and follow him anywhere
have led him to wars without cease
and quiet without peace
no peace
as Uriah's loyalty cries red
against an
unborn hope

all the times that he reprimanded his men,
when he broke rank, out of a crowd of them
Coveting and campaigning for a nagging desire for more

Scripture: Why have you despised the word of the LORD, to do what is evil in his sight?
You have smitten Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and have taken his wife to be your wife."

Can a man love with a broken heart
without his love breaking in two
but just when it was darkest,
he felt the warmth of you
a warm breeze on a hellish night,
and he remembers what it is to be a man
in Your sight

You pick up the broken pieces of a man who has fallen
and he stands
you nurse his wounded soul, and tend to his
battered hope
you take the tears that have watered
his anguish and sprinkle them in a pasture
called repentance

you remind him that though he walks,
though he walks, though he walks
and he falters,
he shall not fall

you tenderly massage his
bowed head with
the scent of possibility
that even when a story ends
it begins
an mends

and sends


Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,I will fear no evil:For thou art with me;Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou annointest my head with oil;My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.

Dressed to Impress

That was you, right?
sauntering up to me
With a pseudo concerned look in your eyes
Looking for water in the valley of the dried pride

Telling me, "Now I know you’ll never be a superstar
But it would suit you well to raise the bar."
"Come," you say, "I
must tell you this
I just don’t believe that your wardrobe preference fits
My preferred style of appropriateness."
"Or maybe," you said, "If you just did your hair like this
You'd be a few inches closer to a yard
closer to the woman that I see fit.

Besides, as we can all see your material is coming up short."

That was you, right?

And poking and
Picking and the prodded and picked
About how I wasn’t that and I wasn’t this

Tried awfully hard to make me believe
I wasn’t presentation worthyof gifts already received
words you spitIn my face
Erudite flight of syllables through
time travel

Fists that used to make my brown eyes blue
When my abusers said, “Who would ever want you?”

I stand at the crossroads
Wondering which train will come first
Valley or height

But wait a minute, I see something………That was you, right?

Standing there coquettish
Leaned to the side
Tempting every bit of me to clench my fist and let you ride?
Thinking you’ve been diligent in duty cauze you've done a good thing
All the while .......coveting
Everything I’ve been conditioned to believe
Nobody would ever want
From me

See, sometimes the attack is a sprint, not a jaunt
in the deep abyss of varicose want
that keeps on peeking through, no matter what they do...

Blisters break the blessings
And blessings breaks the skin
And the skin opens up on contact
And the contact build a callus
So that no matter how many stings and arrows the enemy throws
You never lose your balance

Out of your mouth insert a size nine knock off Prada
capable of attempts to tear down those in your path in leaps and bounds
so talented...
Not far behind are a renegade band of dirty verbed outlaws
All designed to make me pause
For your cause

Apple red lips perch and pitch
rouge insecurities
with no liability accountability or responsibility
hoping for a home runbut still hitting foul

No one said anything about the many different times
That as the object of your despise
I protected your six
And your seven, and eleven
While you were hitting me on my three
Wishing you were on my five

Smilin' all up *in* my twelve

That was you, right?

Well then,
You must have mistaken me
For someone who took up a hobby of
Dressing to impress you
Dressing to upset you
Whispering words of weaponry
An object of disrespect for you to be

Hoping against hope
Praying against faith
Betting against love
Forgetting that Sunday school lesson:In my Father’s house
He takes all
So instead of saying eff you
I say bless you
Forgive them Father for they know not what they do

Quite apparent you haven’t a clue
About what a real sophisticate student haute couture style can do
When you focus on the inside instead of the outside of you

That was you, right?

And in case you forgot,
The clothes don’t make the woman,
The woman makes the clothes,
And because I am a woman
I won’t undress your shame
I will address you as a woman who knows From whence she came
I will give you the dignity I wasn't afforded
and call you by your rightful name

I will dress you with love
I will dress you with peace
I will dress you with hope
I will dress you with patience
I will address you with gentleness
I will dress you with class
I will dress you the way God dressed the lilies of the fields
Solomon’s beauty in all its splendor Could not surpass

I will dress you with kindness
That you must have never knownI will dress you
with the blood of the lamb who hung on the cross
That didn’t think it uncouth to be caught dead in A bloody loin cloth

I will address you as a human being,
that deserves to be treated with respect
because that’s what I wear when I’m dressed to impress