The Lost


Who would have proclaimed
him lost, he who’s always there

Who would have searched with
a heart filled with distress, he who’s with listening ears

That he would not fill your soul
with tears, everything is a burden
to bear

Having not, our love is enamoured
with fear

A lack of interest, is strangely
error and equal carouse with dirt

Thankful, the temple is erected
on three wounded stairs

Seek and you would find
him there


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You know me


You know me,
my anger, my days

You know my thoughts
my gaze, my memories
and pain

You know my prayers,
my childhood, my worship and

You know my soul
my death, my burial and
rising again

You know me, innocent one
You know me

I raise my eyes, to sweet kiss
each day


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There’s a crack in the Church


There’s a crack in the
most ancient site

A tea spoon and a crusty loaf
has spilled its wrath in the throat
of those who’s to stand for the faith

Timidity has kissed the forehead
of the ordained
The oil has been sold
to revive their fine face
Vestments have been hid
to part with old ways

The enemy has fatten their purse
they stood by the counter
addicted to the sound of the
coin and the metal plate

The drive for souls, is relegated
to the infant, embracing old age

The sheep and their sullen soul
tuck in the falling snow

The rat and their own
occupies the shiny store
and the sacred cups

The statues and the rose
crumbled, by the noise
of the jubilant world

All is left, a polluted baptismal font
and a truth that never change

Judgment! Judgment!
The chariot of the world
would not save
on the day, God call you
by your first name


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We do not lose our peace


We do not lose
our peace
We struggle hard to reclaim it

We find ourselves in the
worst of places
in the eager of time flight

The laughter have worn
different faces

The sleep has found a
bruised eye
The cup, as tears be filled

Remain still, and find God
in the midst, the heart would be
young in the evening


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