dream about a place
where women are not objects
where no bullets fly
where there are no chalk mark
silhouettes of bodies on sidewalks.

it's not here.
it's not here.

dream about a place
where hatred and racism
do not exist
where greed is not a motivator
where people are free.

it's not here
not in Darkworld


someone unplugged the heart of our cities.
someone chewed the wires
until sparks flew in 6 directions.
someone came through here
and left nothing but smoke.

you were born into this hell.
no one asked you for permission
and now you are here with nowhere to go.

27th Avenue

riding in a car looking sideways
at the one next to you hoping
that the gleam is not the sun
dancing off the barrel of a gun.
standing in line at the bank praying
that everyone here is sane.
sitting in the front yard
using X-ray vision
on the tinted windows of passing cars.
this is how we live now.
the sound down the street is not a backfire.
our hope constricts with each negative report.
we try to remember the old days.
we want to peel back the horizon.
we want.
we want.


"Mother Teresa said that every city has its own Calcutta and that we should focus our mercy and compassion there. In my city we have an area known as The Zone. It is where the police funnel the homeless,
the addicted and the mentally ill."


when a teardrop falls
He hears the explosion
when a heart cracks
He sees the spider pattern
when hope is lost
He feels the vacuum.


Dream Sequence 2

in this dream i saw the outline of a Man
on a tree.
His hands were pinned with big nails,
His blood was an ocean flowing upward
making shapes in the sky.
i fell to my knees.

Wounds and Cures

cuts in the soul, everyday from every angle
impossible to dodge this big blade, this reality.
holes in His brow, in His back,
in His hands and feet.
imposible to ignore the price, the cost of the cure.


"Disposable people are easy to ignore, but remember this.
No one is disposable. That is a cruel label slapped on to those
who have fallen through the system. We cannot ignore them."


the ocean covered with copper glow of setting sun
raindrops clinging to trees
water on wooden soldiers
the calming rhythm of river flow on granite
a drop of blood falling from a King's hand
blending with muddy earth
seeping into lonely hearts


once again
that chance to start over
the fresh motion of forgiveness
to come to You and know that there is hope

This Is 4 Real

examine the dark holes in human hearts
peer through your curtains at a city in flames
no one is laughing at smoke in the sky
new Rome is falling
Darkworld is rising
history's sad joke is repetition
when eyes are closed and ears are plugged.


"Urban decay does not describe broken down buildings
and dangerous neighborhoods. The decay is the loss of hope."

Number Seven

into this darkness came Number 7
sent here to die/to kill death.
One perfect being to bridge the abyss
to be the Sacrifice
to tattoo His name on our hearts.


i heard a sound like gunfire
but there were no bullets
my heart was pierced
but there was no blood.
it was only words that wounded me.
i heard a new sound like rushing water
but there was no stream,
it was words that healed me.


there was a wall of broken hearts
there was a crimson pool
there were 10,000 reasons
to pull the trigger.

there is a box in the paper
that counts the bodies
there are 666 bullets
for every man, woman and child.

they say a bullet spins in the air
in a perfect spiral dance
and that it is only a piece of lead
until it stops a beating heart.


"Square one in a broken life is a damaged spirit."


there must be a corner in helltown
where the dark hand does not reach
there must be a place
where we can hear angel wings
brushing away our tears.
into You. into You we can go.


doll faces pressed against
big windows
tear drops made of glass
absorb lights and colors
they tell 1000 stories.

look again.
the faces are not porcelain,
the tears are real.

The Healer

into a world torn/enter the Healer
ravaged souls laid bare
internal destruction exposed,
enter the Healer
enter the Healer.

Sunlight Door

"Every soul is of equal value. A hooker or an addict have
as much worth in God's eyes as the wealthy and successful."


hopeless one/you can be unchained.
broken wings can be restored.
you/standing on the edge waiting to jump,
wanting to die
can turn back to arms that hold/not push
to hands that wipe away tears/not strike
to words that build up/not tear down.
you can. you can.

Into This Hell

He runs His finger across our tombstone hearts
He writes a story on our souls.
He is a candle in our darkness
He is the medicine for our sickness
His name is Jesus/there is no other hope.


she flies away at the sound of trouble
into skies purple and black
she disappears into clouds of madness
shaped like childhood and inner wounds
her pattern, a circle
always returning to the point of the pain
she flies away if you get too close.


"God calls us to get messy, to touch people who are seemingly unlovable."

Tombstone Eyes

they say there are windows that tell stories
no way to hide the pain in the soul
and some faces are graveyards
with tombstones for eyes
the date of death engraved
while the heart still beats< /p>

Reasons To Die

she thinks about death...often
she imagines an exit shaped like a gun
or a hand full of pills
it's not because of what's been done
it's because of things not done
the words never said
the face never stroked
the shoulders never hugged
she doesn't really need a reason to die...
she needs a reason to live.

Reasons To Live

a nail scarred hand reaching into your soul
the promise of healing and life
One come to set you free


"Christianity is not a production, a marketing plan, big buildings,
television shows and tacky merchandise. It is walking among the poor,
serving them fresh food and cold water, handing out clothing and blankets.
It is an unselfish life. We are the hands and feet of Christ. When people in need
experience true servanthood their hearts open to the love of God."


To See Jesus

were you there when the hammer came down,
when sweaty arms pulled
in that terrible arc
that slow recoiling motion
gaining speed until hammer met nail
exploding with blunt force
were you close enough to feel the blood
that flew like crimson bees
then flattened and disappeared
into the earth.


everyone wants to live in Happytown
no pain. no fear. no death. no hell.
everyone wants a house with a white picket fence
no rain. no floods. no break-ins. no fire.
everyone wants a perfect little world
no war. no dictators. no bombs. no army.
every man wants a perfect woman
no blemishes. blond hair. blue eyes. nice tan.
every woman wants a perfect man
nice job. new car. good money. strong face.
but no one ever wakes up in Happytown
because it doesn't exist in this world
down here it's not so perfect
people bleed. people cry. people break down
yet everyone chases a vision
ignoring...always ignoring the Only Perfection
there is a town called Hope.
deep in the heart, ruled by a King
open to all...the door is a Son
the city is real.