The glory of the King

All the birds of the air they sing
They have only one song to bring
for the glory
The glory of the King

All the mountains they display
Clothed in splendour everyday
Declare the glory
The glory of the King

The oceans roar with thunderous praise
The gentle streams whisper His wondrous name
with resounding glory
The glory of the King

The trees and leaves clap their hands
In eager expectation of the sons of man
To rise with them in heavens song
Revealing glory
The glory of the King

All creation stands and shouts aloud
The heavens and the skies proclaim
The majesty of the risen King
The awesome glory
The glory of the King.

A square world

Is the world square,
Full of round people
who don’t fit?
Like pigs of a feather that don’t flock together
Even though they live side by side
That’s just the space they’re in
It’s so full brimming to overflow
In fact flooded
But empty in a bone dry desert place
A damn mad world or a mad damn world
Which is it or is it both?
One thing for sure it’s spinning
in ever increasing circles
Prison circles
Terminally ill circles
Lost at sea circles.

Beady Eyes

He peered around the corner with his beady eyes.
The spectacles he was wearing almost made them look normal.
Anyone else and it would have been your typical goldfish bowl look.
Yet you could tell something was odd.
That strange look everyone recognises.
Then again who is everyone?
Who determines the look,the style,the image?
His beady eyes are unique.
They glisten.
There is a certain beauty an absolute kind.
Behind them lies a radiant soul.

Right Mind

Don’t by fooled by what you see.
Most people in the world are encamped around a visual address.
All the labels.
All the brands.
All the plastic facades of superficial realities.
Skyscrapers filled with phonies fill cities breathing in with rapid succession waiting to feed their anorexic appetite.
Just one fix then the forgotten taste gnawing in the gut like a dead pit.
Who in their right mind would wilfully want to dine at this table?


Who says never
He can or can’t
She will she won’t
Up or down
In or out
Optimist or pessimist
Which one are you
Where do you bend to the right or to the left
Where do you fit
This way or that
Tossed upon the waves of change
How you ride them time will tell
Double-minded or stable and true
Trials will come that will test your faith
Ask for wisdom and do not doubt
Then out of the crucible
You’ll be a finished work
Strong and pure
Lacking nothing
now complete.


Drifting purposeless meaningless
Fixed on never ending circles
Around and around we go
This old man he played one
He played nick knack on my drum
With a nick knack paddy whack give a dog a bone
This old man came rolling home
Home to the drum
The humdrum
The monotonous
The mundane
The all piercing, shuddering contaminating word
No, no, no!
I was born to live
I will not play that drum.

Rhythm and rhyme

There’s a rhythm in rhyme.
There’s a word in time.
There’s a season to listen.
There’s a time to speak.
With open ears and hearts in beat.
With lips that lay spoken.
With truth that stands open.
Open to see.
Open to know.
Open to be.
Open to tell.
Freedom is knocking on you door.
Freedom is dancing on your shore.
Will you swim in this sea?
Will you float in this truth?
Will you walk on weightless water?
Will you finally greet with outstretched arms
With eyes transfixed with the same heartbeat
Now perfectly in rhyme.
Now perfectly in time.