Lead Me

Lost …. I need direction.

Wheels spinning throwing mud.

I’m idle . No momentum.

I’m standing chewing cud.

A ship that’s dragging anchor .

Full throttle surely sinks .

As storm waves take it over.

Abandoned to the drink.

The rut,  it just gets deeper.

This course too much a strain.

Ill gladly take the bit Lord.

If you’ll grab hold the reins.

Lead Me

Open Doors and Lights

The path we take in life is full of open doors,

and as Gods creature of free will they are all ours to explore.

Some will end in darkness, some will end in light.

How is it then that we can choose to take the one that’s right?

Some are easily ignored, our conscience steers us clear.

Others scare us to the core, though they are the ones we should draw near.

Then there’s those that seem to fit though darkness lurks inside.

I tell you friend these are the doors from which we all should hide.

Now were imperfect creatures and so were sure to take

a darkened door from time to time in decisions that we make.

I think the things to think of when were in this darkened space.

Where was it last we saw the light? How can I get back to that place?

For a door that’s dark when going in glows bright when walking out,

and the sooner that we turn around the simpler our route.

So.. What is this light I speak of and how is it I can be

assured the path and doors I choose are bright as bright can be?

The light I speak of is my Lord. Jesus is his name.

He freely gave himself for us so that we can be looked at without blame.

No darkness can be found in him. He is perfect glowing light.

Soon all creatures big and small will bow down at his might.

So it is I have decided to place my trust in Him.

To study of his teaching. To run away from sin.

The Bible is my roadmap, Jesus is my guide.

No door through which he leads me hides darkness deep inside.

I know that I’ll face struggles for this He has for-told,

but the treasure that He leads me to is worth more than all the gold.

Heaven is what I speak of, to see his shining face.

To bow down to his glory, to feel his warm embrace.

For now though… I’m in my earthly home. There is work that I must do.

To follow along the path he laid. To spread his word to you.

And so I wrote this little poem of open doors and lights.

Of choices that we all must make, and knowing which ones right.

Lastly here is the question. Which door will you choose?

The door to light or darkness. The door to win or lose.

Open Doors and Lights

Pickled Biscuits

I like the thought of pickled biscuits

although they don’t make sense.

I suppose they are about as logical

as shade from a barbed wire fence.

Logical … now there’s a word that

sometimes makes me cringe.

A preset set of boundaries

a beginning and an end.

I think logic is a damn fine thing

if you live inside a box.

The thought it can bring comfort

make borders where there’s not.

Id just assume to think of things

as questions yet unsolved

than to put them in the category

“not to be resolved”.

For had folks stayed inside a box

and not bothered to invent

wed surely have no cures at all

to diseases we lament.

I doubt there’d be a lightbulb

there’d surely be no cars.

Lets find a cure to cancer,

lets take a trip to mars.

Explore this world in which we live

to find answers to our problems.

Look outside of logic.

make the tops the bottoms.

As for pickled biscuits

don’t tell me that we can’t,

and the shade from that old barbed wire fence

feels just fine to an ant.

Pickled Biscuits

Lord, I need You!!!

In yesterdays Sunday preaching

a point was simply raised

about the center of Gods will

compared to how we spend our days.

Now that got me to thinking

as I drove to work this morning

would the me that Jesus sees

pain his heart or bring him glory.

I must confess my answer

to this question that was raised

does not thrill my heart at all

in fact it brings dismay.

As a Christian my mentor should be Jesus

My walk should follow his

to study of his teaching

my life to freely give

What then can I do

to right this wayward march

to turn my arrow towards the bull

to fix my wretched heart.

The answer lies within my failings

to which my hand has penned

I lack in study of his word

this rip I first must mend.

For he calls us all to know him

and he loves us every one

our earthly lives are filthy rags

and still he sent his Son.

My sins in life are many

yet he bore them all for me

His life on earth perfection

still they nailed him to the tree.

They… 2000 year old scape goats

yes. Physically they put Him there

but my sins are equally responsible

Lord, I gave you that cross to bear.

I may as well have held the nails

or drove them through Your flesh.

I may as well have thrust the spear

or neglected Your thirst to quench.

And still You love me any way.

You’ve known me from the start.

You’ve seen my inner workings.

You truly know my heart.

I pray Lord that this heart you know

brings more joy than pain.

I pray it is a heart you use

to bring glory to Your name.

My Lord I owe you everything

I’m nothing without you.

I’ve tried to do this on my own

and I don’t have a clue.

…..Lord I need You!!!!!!!

Lord, I need You!!!

Pondering Pork

A horrible thought just came to mind

of a world without a pig.

It’s surely a fitter for the handiest critter

for variety and taste.  Can you dig?

Lets start with bacon.

Wonderful bacon..

Wonderful, amazing bacon…

Words can’t describe how I feel deep inside

about the pigs most delectable part.

It spits and it spatters as it fries without batter.

My goodness, just the thought warms my heart.

I take in the smell like the wind in a sail

for it’s surely the pigs top legacy.

I dream of a bite with a crunch of delight

as my teeth settle into pork ecstasy.

Now. Onto the chops.

Pork chops..

Goodness me, fried pork chops…

One can only hope of a fortune which holds a portion

as golden they sit on a plate.

Their bully perfume infiltrate the room

just driving ones heart to elate.

The heavenly flavor my tongue yearns to savor

before it comes out of the grease.

Beside turn-up greens or boiled cabbage and beans

this surely my hunger will cease.

Don’t forget the ribs.

Yes pork ribs..

Baby back pork ribs…

Over coals of mesquite it sends joy clear down to my feet

to see a rack there on the pit.

As glaze takes them over the wafting aroma

cause my taste buds wanting to fit.

They promise a taste as they lovingly baste

My heart it beats with delight.

Tender, sweet, salty my beverage is malty

good heavens this pairings just right.

They are all so good.

There are so many ways..

To dice up a porker to eat…

From sausage to ham, pork roast or spam.

Why you can even pickle the feet.

It scares me to ponder of losing this wonder

of glutenous tasteful delight .

As these thoughts cross my mind my heart yearns to dine

on a banquet of pig parts tonight.

Pondering Pork


handMy hands are strong and useful.

They gather work and play.

Sometimes their torn and ragged

from the stresses of the day.

They feel, they touch, their steady.

though calloused they are gentle too.

Give them a job they are ready.

My bidding they will do.

The right one is my favorite

its surer than the left.

It writes, it throws, it shakes your hand.

It’s the one that loves a test.

….Now this causes liability

for because its use is greater

this surely means it holds more sins

than its slightly lazy neighbor….

I know its shook in anger.

I’ve felt it clinched in hate.

Its turned through pages dirty.

Its left an open gate.

Its struck. Its broken beauty.

Withheld from those in need.

It’s cursed you through the windshield.

Its scattered harmful seed.

It reeks of half my failures.

this hand that plucks the strings.

On trial I’m judge and jury

Its fate this question brings

It’s both beautiful and ugly

This hand with which I write.

To praise the hand that holds the pen

……or cut it off in spite..


Debtors Prayer

Its been a hell of a rough few days.  The stresses of running a business and trying to make it not only viable but profitable push constantly.  Debt is a slippery slope and it might only take a small miss step on my part or something as unpredictable as the weather to get a person sliding the wrong way.  I miss the days where I went to work, did my job and let someone else worry about juggling all the junk.

On tiptoes … in neck deep water.

Ahead dry land I can see.

Behind the depths of the ocean.

To the beach I must go to be free.

The slope there I’m hoping is gentle.

No potholes or cuts in the floor.

I’m weary from all my past swimming.

Lord.  Please let me make it to shore…

Debtors Prayer