On The Flame Within

Why have I come to face such suffering?
Is it to plant a seed that truly grows,
To flourish like the fabled mustard tree?
The flame of Abba's love that is within?

For tell a vaunted, prideful government
That it is not colossus but servant,
And it will crush you with its hard boot heel.
Or tell an emperor or president,
That he or she's a relic of the past,
And you will feel the stings of arrogance,
And see with sorrow how the past persists.

And tell the one who lives by fixed ideas,
That all fixed thoughts are now made free to move;
And you will face denial's baleful stare,
And wonder why in heaven you would dare,
To come back here with hopes of some sea change.

Despite all this, the fearsome spark remains,
The smallest ground of freedom still exists,
Flame upon flint, portentous flame within.
It lies so deep inside some tortured breasts,
That people pass it by and thus consign
The bearers to their daily prisons dark,
These prisons worse than those with cold steel bars.

Thus simply to deny this little light
Is to commit foul murder silently.
This tiny spark is Abba's potent flame
Suppressed within all creatures when denied.

You may be bloated by the richness of too much,
Or burdened by a famine's deathly weight;
Or simply sit alone in your office,
Your eyes fixed on a screen that will not speak.

I need to call all eyes to look within.
And then to look beyond. To look in eyes.
And, face to face, to see the spark is real.
Within, without, beyond, above, below.

Light of the world. A sorrow-bearing light.
A light with strong shoulders. A light to bear
The pain of straying times. A light of life.

A flame to overcome and create new,
A flame for all, a flame meant just for you.
A fire baptism that is for real,
A fire that no power on earth can steal.
A power to bind the wounds that you can't heal.

Turn, turn to Abba then. Receive the flame,
And listen for the whisper of your name.

On Love of Earth

How have we loved the earth as time goes by?
Conglomerates roll willy nilly o'er
Its rills and contours. And impunity
Becomes the operative word, and war
Is what we wage. Or is it really war?

For no, we have a brief to dominate,
And nature is a two-edged scimitar,
And we lie to ourselves if we deny
That we are in control, for so we are.

We love the earth by seeing honestly
The ways in which earth is our enemy
It would be well to act respectfully
By not denying what we plainly see.

For many nature is a living myth,
An evocation of some other world;
For those with eyes to see, the truth is mixed,
For nature is a crazy quilt, unfurled,
The spectrum ranges from carnivorous,
To beauties past our power to describe;
A great procession of creations various --
Outrageous, frightening, cruel, sublime.

Respect the earth, and learn to know it well,
Respect its processes and mysteries;
Fathom its laws, unveil its gifts and flaws,
And learn to master its good processes.

The meekness I propounded has been bent
To represent a dour passivity;
Let me now say exactly what I meant:
I meant humility toward mystery,
I meant the care of a good engineer,
I meant a common sense ability,
A simple penchant for making things things clear.

I am no enemy of science, no,
But meekness is what good science requires;
Or else it simply joins our idiot show.
Instead of fine solutions, raging fires.
Instead of floating homes, drowned villages.

Befriend the earth? Not in some naive way;
Befriend it standing tall in Abba's care.
Befriend the earth, but idolize it not;
For Abba's way makes us the masters there.

On Gifts

Gift giving is the height of all virtue.
Be not afraid to make gifts of yourselves.
Always pass on the riches of your soul.

Tell me what's bad, what is the worst of all?
It is the soul that's closed to giving gifts.
It is the sense of, Everything for me!

True virtues are alike: they overcome.
Your body's friend, the spirit, creates gifts.
It is in giving that you overcome.

So listen to your spirit, hear its speech.
And let it lead you to your own virtue.
And when your body is aligned with it,
Your spirit will delight and nurture you.

Become the one who creates and esteems,
The loving benefactor of all things.
The one who passes on the gift within.

Let your heart be a river broad and full.
And when you are beyond all praise and blame,
You'll find yourself commanding everything.

Yes, you will be past seeking the crowd's praise.
Comfort will not end up your fondest wish.
Your mind will waken to all those who seek.

Let your own will reflect this single mind,
And learn to live beyond a sense of need.
For then your virtue will become your friend,
And be the gift you share with all who see.

With your good hand and eye, a giver be,
Free spirit unattached, open to all.
Without a need for praise or sense of blame,
Then you are free to give just as you wish.

On Death

Death is the slow, or sudden, end of life. From violence, disease or long decline.

Death is as destined as the rising sun, as certain as the rolling of the tides.

Death is as real as a state of mind. Or as a dream remembered in the dawn.

Within the mind of Abba, life's a gift. And gifts are free, not to be held too tight. The best gifts will achieve their destiny.

The gift of life is wrapped in nothingness. In planetary voids and cell-less deeps. The nothingness of love that's not conceived. The nothingness of time when breath is gone.

Religion builds fair castles in the sky and life is turned from gift to burdened wait. Each day that might reveal a lively depth, prey to the rumbling tumbrels of the mind.

Intent and will are shunted to the side. Hope is centered on the long beyond. And in the eyes a blankness speaks cold doom. And in the walk a shuffling death march.

The best of art is not facility, but attitude embracing all that is. We see beyond and through the dark curtains and grasp the movement of a bounding Yes.

Yes to life and yes to Abba's light. Yes to visions of one's work and play. Yes to holy creativity. Yes to love's most precious healing touch. This yes, this love, this nodding is enough.

Yes to dying when the right time comes. Yes to celebrating all that lives.

Some die in battle, squandering great souls. Some just succumb when faced by grinning death.

When should death be? At the right time, I say. Let it be simple. Lavish naught on it. Despise it not but neither give it place. Make it a thankful ending, not a dirge.

Some grow too old for truth and victory. It is an art to leave at the right time.

Too many sermons seek to prolong death and view life as a burden to be borne. Such sermons are a patent blasphemy.

I live again now. Once I died too young. The hated victim of the good and just. I knew the way of love and laughter too. And came to show the way to overcome.

How immature the world's hatred of life. How self-serving the worship of grim death.

I say be free to die and free in death. To say a holy No when Yes is past. In dying lay no blasphemy on earth. The honey of your soul be upon all.

Envelop earth within a sunset glow. Let virtue mark your dying as your life.

Thus would I die again, that you, my friends, would give to me the honey of your souls.

And when I die, to earth I shall return. And be one with the one who gave me birth.

I have a golden ball for you, my friends. I throw it to you, See it's coming now. Now throw it back. I watch you, full of joy. Please pardon me if I should linger on.

On Child and Marriage

What can be said of marriage and the child?
The notion that a child takes precedence
Is heresy to self-indulgent ears.
Do we not know that marriage is for "love"?

Why then is love so adversarial?
A bond to win protection from the state.
Should love abate, the state divides the spoils.
Prenuptials define how deep love runs.

What of infatuation? Is that love?
And if so, what of children? Of the child?
Children are such brats, imperious.
Children are no noisy, shut them up.
Why can't we have time just for ourselves?
I'm stuck here all day with these awful kids.

Now I am left alone. How to survive?
Marriage and family, the mantra goes.
Why then are children such an afterthought?
Or like some program to be done from pride?
Or trophies to be always on display?
Or else abandoned in a thousand ways?

How mixed up and how mired in moral cant?
Where to begin? Well I'll start at the end.

See no child as the product of wedlock.
See each child as but Abba's jealous claim.
See marriage as a word people have made
To speak whatever language they prefer.
See children as those whom adults once were.

Despair of sorting through parental blames,
A simple reason would spare us this play.
But passion is not simple, nor is rage.
And reason will be crushed, kids made to pay,
Until the end of time or doomsday comes.

We are a parlous race of vagabonds.
What we do not destroy we idolize.
And then paint with such mawkish sentiment
That we see mawkish as the best there is,
And honor it with tear-stained handkerchiefs.

Could there not be a thoughtful conception?
Could not a marriage have a real idea?
Could not a parent learn a firm, real love?
Could not a space for reason be vouchsafed?

You're young. You long for marriage and a child.
But by what right do you wish for a child?
Are you victorious? Self-conquering?
Do you command your senses and virtues?
Or are you animal in wish and need?
All loneliness and lack of inner peace?

Let victory and freedom wish a child.
Would marriage be a help to you in this?
Perhaps first be a wheel that's self-propelled.
Become a self-created creator.
Marriage would then be the will of two.
Marriage would be common reverence.

What then is marriage minus reverence?
It is a poverty of souls in pairs,
Not made in heaven but lost in hell's net.

Abba blesses unions that create.
Ones that create. Abba does not bless hate.
How many give their children cause to weep?
The world sees marriage as a marketplace,
A sea of cunning eyes where cunning buys.
The world loves follies when they are called love.
The world will trample love into the muck.

True love of woman and of man?
Then have an eye out for all suffering.
Make love a torch to light a higher way.
Esteem good humor more than moral talk.

Even the best love has its bitterness.
True overcoming underlies true love.
That and a thirst to reach to the next stage.
Thirst to create and longing for the light.

If your will is to wed, I wish you well.
But read these lines, lest marriage be your hell.

On The Good Tree

To yield good fruit, one must be a good tree.
Abba grows good trees if you but believe;
But say you wish to see Abba's will done,
Both earth and heaven. Then the good tree comes.

It is inexorable, destined, done,
Though few will choose this path to fruition;
The tree is watered, set beside a stream
And as it grows it becomes one of Abba's trees.

You leave convention and self-interest,
Your leaves are made to move to finer winds;
You operate by bedrock sentiments
And draw conclusions based on Abba's Way.

Your branches will not bow to emperors,
Your boards will not build cathedrals and shrines;
The principalities and powers arise,
But you stand upright, Abba at your side.

To yield good fruit, one must be a good tree.
Abba grows good trees if you but believe;
But say you wish to see Abba's will done,
Both earth and heaven. Then the good tree comes.

On Women

To some men, women are a riddle too.
But not to me. I see the truth like day.
I always hear the notes of something new.
Once, as a boy, I longed to walk as you.

The bearing of the children of the earth?
Too often after men have turned away?
How great a treasure this! Yes, that is so.
Unknown by men steeped in the mindless crowd.

Corrupted love kills infants by the score.
Do not set blame. Stop loving thus. No more!

There is a play that men and women do,
A world of eye to eye, not seduction.
To view unseeing women on their way,
As they pass swiftly through a moving crowd,
Gives me my fondest visions of the truth,
The truth of the unknowing eye to eye.

The crowd is wed to to danger and to play.
I praise the woman who seeks solitude.
The crowd is happy if it can possess.
A woman's happy if she can refuse.

The cruelties of love are beyond speech.
I would a woman be beyond all pain.
You've heard it said, Shake dust from off your feet.
I say aloud, When hands are raised, take leave.

False love is love that breathes in unison
With heated crowds' disgusting decibels.
How mindless is the noise of braying folk,
Who trade good words for coded idiot speech.

The crowd inclines to feats of strength and war.
Refuse and be the truest warrior.
Do this not out of heartfelt sympathy,
But silent rage at crowd mentality.

Unrecognized, a woman's mind goes slack.
Blessed when her starlike radiance shines through.
Blessed when she breaks the chains of all abuse.
Blest you with courage to go on your own.
Twice blest if children go as well.
The wings of your own strength their future bear.

The crowd is blind to beauty in the old
And lusts but for the woman as a child.
Illusion and false stars and emptiness.
A fount of faces long, with deadened eyes.

Beneath veneers, harsh slaveries persist.
Men, knowing better, roll like pigs in heat.
The noise grows louder as stupidity
Attains new levels to dead melodies.

Let women free themselves from all of this.
Let them enjoy the fruits of freedom's gifts.
Old women never lose a single thing.
Not beauty, not reflection, not desire.
A girl can choose an overcoming life
Before her powers of reproduction rise.
And if she does, she lives above the crowd.
She has no commerce with their lusts and lies.

The end is: Overcome! Shine forth the truth!
Then love exactly as you wish to do.

On Creativity

Is it your wish to find your own true self?
Then listen to these cautionary words.

Beware the voices of near and far crowds;
Some voices tell you, Seekers get lost,
Or to do this or that to stay alive.
They'll turn you into one who follows crowds.

I know, when you reject these shallow views,
You may fall prey to lonely agonies.
The path to who you are may lead through pain.
But Abba takes your hand and walks with you,
Til you move like a wheel on your own power;
And stars above begin to shine for you.

Throw out ambition, it will not suffice.
Throw out high thoughts, for Abba knows your mind.
Merely, in quiet, ask and seek and knock.
Abba within will tend your every need.
Then you will break your yoke and become free.

Can you name values and claim them as well?
This is the fruit of graceful solitude,
The essence of all creativity;
For Abba is sublime and within you,
And only Abba leads you to what's true.

To choose this way will change all views of you.
You may appear to have left all behind.
But neither lord the change, nor change deny.
The friendship you possess is within you.

If choices must be made, choose loneliness,
Rather than dull submission to false cries.
You're on your way to being a bright star.
No shadows need be cast upon your glow.
But if they are, just let them fall away.
Walk on. This is creation's holy way.

The virtuous and just may crucify.
Do not be tempted by their siren call.
Even eschew holy simplicity.
Beyond its surface may lie fire and stake.

Beware all who deny complexity;
No one can grasp all truths, not one.
choose your good friends with care, and patiently.

Sometimes the worst of enemies is you.
You are the one for whom you lie in wait.
Ah, lonely one, one day you'll be yourself,
Beyond all barriers you have in you.

Learn to converse with every force within,
And to negotiate the way ahead.
This is creation, creativity.
Fluency is Abba's gift to you.

You can rise up anew from all fierce flames
When you have chosen this creative way.
Your vanquished devils will be serving you.
One day, with halting steps, your work appears.
And it will be your life and honesty.
And you will bask in Abba's silent praise,
And that of friends you made along the way.

Take my tears with you as you go;
Delight in what your future may yet show.

On Love of Neighbor

To love your neighbor seems a strange request;
We think of neighbor as the one next door.
We also counsel love of enemy;
Both equally confound us more and more.

You cannot love without love of yourself;
Not narcissistic preening or false pride.
Abba within is very love itself;
Therefore love of yourself is fair and wise.
Accepting this is your beginning point;
To know that you are loved beyond all loves.

Civility is clearly part of love,
So too awareness and a giving way.
But not so much you trample on yourself.
Love does not seek well-speaking of itself;
That is a common reason why we act.
But seeking praise denies Abba straight out;
And Abba's is the only praise we need.

Love does not lie. Love does not tell tall tales;
Direct and simple, never gossiping.
A silent doing will exceed a shout;
A soft accomplishment drowns out fanfare.

Do not love for association's sake;
This is an insecure advance at best.
Your inner confidence tells vastly more,
Than any knowing that you seek to claim.

Some neighbor love will hurt those farthest off;
Join in no clique or group that cooks up wrong;
I teach that friendship can complete the world;
A friendship based on Abba's love of all.

To do no harm to those you cannot see
Is the first step to loving enemies;
Civility to those who are close by
Can pave the way if love is meant to be.

On Values

Life is the goods and evils that we choose;
I bring a choice to topple all past choice.
A way our ways of wickedness to lose,
I say choose Abba only, sole and true.

For Abba transcends all that we create;
And Abba's way is written on our hearts.
This great I Am, speaks from a burning trees,
Saying only, I will be Who I Will Be.

And frees us to create beyond ourselves;
And frees us to do what's most difficult.
And frees us to fulfill our deepest dreams;
Abba within, not some divisive cult.

Blaring trumpets, insecure and vain,
Can't carry us us an inch along the way.
The vicious, vengeful ways of jealousy,
Are seen for what they are when Abba reigns.

I speak a way of shaking dust from feet,
And praying simply any time at all;
And letting the sun set upon our rage,
And leaving all who deal with us amazed.

I speak a way of childlike ignorance,
A wisdom past most all philosophy.
For Abba is the author of our truth;
And we can only see what we can see!

Thus free yourself from false authority;
I do not speak submission, I speak strength.
But not a strength that relies on brute force;
I speak the strength of standing tall and free.

No way you choose will be THE way for all,
All are created to succeed alone;
So don't display your treasures in parades;
Be circumspect, your goals to you belong.

Abba's most sacred freedom is to be
Potential within every being made.
To help each one on earth to live by choice,
To lead all souls to drink from crystal springs

Abba within holds close your freest heart;
Abba within gives you your freest truth.
All idols are but values we once made
To mask our sad mistrust of Abba's way.

On Cynicism

Cruel, venal and competitive --
What else is life to millions on the make?
Poor, rich, disabled, add an adjective
To sketch the killing toll this living takes.

Sex slaves are not just words, they're fragile lives,
And disdain from the arrogant cuts deep;
A cynical analysis will thrive;
There is no lack of reasons we should weep.

And cynicism is the coolest way
To smirk and bear a tragic calculus,
And watch the whole thing blindly night and day,
So cool because it never touches us.

Deliver us from evil, we all say?
It is a need none can or will deny;
Still efficacious goodness is the way,
Though that might make us suffer, even die.

The deathly values we live by must go.
That happens to be our most crying need;
Or else we end have a tasteless, gruesome show,
Our boot heels crushing Abba's precious seed.

Inclusive love transcends a family,
For families mix love and war with ease;
The best of love is the love of enemy,
Which one can do. But who is there who sees?

We say perfection's unattainable,
I say negotiation can succeed;
Perhaps I am the one who's cynical!
I merely underline this sad deep need.

For Abba's way is simple helpfulness,
Devoid of all religious cant and show;
Unassuming and infused with happiness,
A cynic can be generous, you know!

The cynic's realism is a trap,
The very refuge of hypocrisy;
Better be skewered by a cynic's rap,
Than be lost in to be or not to be.

Still, cynicism is the coolest way
To smirk and bear our tragic calculus,
And watch the whole thing blindly night and day,
So cool because it never touches us.

On Heat

In wilderness or city, it's the same;
Alone or in a crowd, we feel the heat.
The heat can lead to union and a child;
A celebration of the heart of life.

Abba can be the heat's progenitor;
The heat can lead to solitary play.
Guilt-ridden, casual, lonesome, routine;
Abba does not despise the body's play.

The heat can animate resentfulness
And lead to rank abuse and drunken rage.
Abba then is the victim, wracked with pain
Within and in all pain-wracked casualties.

Blame passion, blame somnambulance, blame lust;
Then blame the victim, blame yourself, blame on.
Rather than blame, live with the heat within;
It is life's gift, direct livingly.
It is the very source of life itself;
Give of its warmth to others and to you.

At times there will be no capacity;
You get shut down by age or mourning days.
Then use the heat to create in yourself;
Turn heat to words, to music, or to thought.
There is no fixed compulsion, you are free,
As long as Abba's light is not put out.

Do I dare speak of "dirty" things to you?
It's not the very worst thing I could do.
It's shallowness of truth I cannot stand;
We feel the heat. Accept it. Give it room.
The body's you. You are the body. True.
Mould heat to good will. Give Abba his due.

On Crowds and Celebrity

Seek solitude wherever you may be;
You might be in a city, or beyond.
Seek solitude alone or in a crowd;
You need not be afraid to be alone.

Don't think you must have friends always nearby;
Seek solitude, a space where mind is free.
Seek solitude and commune with your will;
Seek solitude to give your reason play.

I see the passion for celebrity;
I see the shoving of the hurried crowd.
The private and the public are confused.
Let Abba lead you to a silent space
To think, to reason and be one with you.

Can silence overcome the marketplace?
Yes. Abba can create silence 'mid noise.
So many know so little of this way,
So few believe that they have any choice.

So many blindly follow and conform
To ways of shouting, insult and deep scorn.
If they knew about whom this world revolves,
They might question what they are living for.

Abba is at the center, in all cells,
In every person, Abba seeks to shine.
Celebrity and fame are this world's way;
Abba creates the truest stars of all.

I celebrate the depths of consciousness;
Celebrities will move from faith to faith.
Quick and capricious, always something new,
They tear things down to prove that they exist.

I celebrate the depths of consciousness;
Their weapon is persuasion and bombast,
A bloody entertainment is a plus.
All cameras on the altars as they kneel;
Think of the endless hours that they steal.


I celebrate the depths of consciousness;
The people lavish love upon the great;
But if you love the truth, be not ashamed.
Seek solitude and thought and then create;
Turn from the sudden ones. Choose quiet ways.
Seek deep experience and then create;

There is a place, beyond celebrity,
Where all that's truly good and great takes place,
This place is where new values come to life.

Seek solitude wherever you may be;
You might be in a city or beyond.
Seek solitude alone or in a crowd;
The greatest victories are won alone.

On War

We were all made with war inside our veins;
The power to fight and kill is not a dream.
Nor can war be defeated with our words;
War is the hell we know when reason fails.

Our hoary values rise to claim the day;
Freedom becomes our decreed destiny,
Intelligence our lethal rationales,
Our values become graven images.

There are no values that approach Abba;
Before Abba all values are as dross.
And none more dross than those that buttress war:
Strength. Courage. Loyalty. Obedience.
To whom? To Abba? Abba wills no war.

There is no friend and there's no enemy;
All soldiers cede their freedom in advance,
Then become victims of both friend and foe;
Their choice is chimera. They have to go.

Those wars which have no weapons, none left dead,
Can be as virulent as killing wars.
Words are a sword as sharp as fine-filed steel,
And pierce as deep as daggers into flesh.

I look for warriors whose courage is
Too high to be dragged onto killing fields;
Who can endure the rage of patriot gore
And speak the reason of the world to be.

This world to be has no antagonists,
Protagonists are history as well.
This world has those who bow to none at all,
For only Abba, Abba is their life.

We were all made with war inside our veins;
The power to fight and kill is not a dream.
War energy need not be used to kill;
Use it to make a world where true peace reigns.

On Preachers

I come to preach life. I will not preach death.
The vision of of the child, not dour frowns.
The lilt of spirit wind, not dry confines.
Bread broken well and sharing of good wine.

I come to preach life more abundantly,
To preach economies of mustard seeds;
To wear no ponderous robes but talk of light,
For Abba's light is what this poor world needs.

My words were plain back then, they are plain now;
Rejoice. Take Abba in. Receive his love.
You are a spectrum primal to sublime;
You overcome when Abba lifts you up.

Come celebrate. Learn silence. Then create.
You are a calling from Abba's great heart
To be, and to become, a strong beacon;
To build new values earth can depend on.

Judge not. Nor censure. Nor waste time on death.
You're a life bearer making Abba known;
And light from within you spreads through the earth.
Ask always. Seek always. Knock always. Do!

I come to preach life. I will not preach death.
The vision of of the child, not dour frowns.
The lilt of spirit wind, not dry confines.
Bread broken well and sharing of good wine.

On Finding Your Way Through

To seek your own way is to be afraid.
Each moment of pure joy can yield up fear.
As you accept yourself for who you are,
Stark challenges may woo you from your course.

The lofty heights appear but then depths rise,
And you are daunted by the sheer expanse.
The way of Abba frees you to move on;
The way of Abba is finding your way.

Make peace with every fragment of your being;
Let all your inner wholeness become clear.
Accept each part. Let every part converse;
Then you will find a way beyond your fear.

Some friends won't trust you as you seek the heights;
Hold to the still small voice that lives within.
The knight of faith remains invisible;
But Abba's eyes of love are clear as day.

Trust eyes and ears, trust limbs and heart and mind.
You need not play to them, play for yourself.
For you are one with Abba all the time.
Abba is light within. See Abba shine.

And if your longing mingles with contempt,
Stop in your tracks, breath in, and know this truth:
To ask, to seek, to knock is Abba's way,
And none who does these things will ever fail.

You can embrace all heights and depths at once;
Let Abba's light and peace bathe you with love.
If this brings you to tears, embrace yourself;
And know you are embraced as you respond.

For Abba ties you to the universe,
To all creation, heavens and beyond.

On Dualism

All dualism divides into two,
All unity removes opposing sides;
A binary approach is but a tool,
Which never should subvert the truth it hides

Protagonists, antagonists, we know,
As frequent players on life's chancy stage;
But there's simple truth that history shows:
Division ends when this world comes of age.

Division has a place in reasoning,
And certain thoughts require dialect;
But if we wish to let strong freedom ring,
The spectrum is the tool we must select.

Repeat: A house divided cannot stand,
All history has proved this endlessly.
Idolatrous dividing in fools' hands
Shatters all hope of living peacefully.

The greatest error, parsing all I've said,
Comes at the point of understanding this;
Do you not see the legions of the dead,
And know division for just what it is?

If everything's a spectrum, what is good?
And what is evil? Are they not two things?
There are no absolutes. For Abba would
See compromise applied to everything.

How terrible this simple word appears,
When we consider fanfares and alarms?
Why compromise, alleviating fears,
When we can have our lusty calla to arms!

What would our media do with boring days,
Unpunctuated by new body counts?
What would we watch, what could our wise ones say,
If conflict was reduced to small amounts?

Well, I negotiate within my mind,
And I negotiate without as well;
And I am not ashamed because I find,
The path to war ends up in warrior's hell.

Two sides are needed to create a war
Two emnities, two arguments, two briefs.
And then consent, emotions honed knife-sharp,
Then promises to one will ever keep.

Better the courage to speak truth to power
Better a house divided will not stand;
Better no dualism a few cold showers,
And maybe some leaders who understand.

On Self Transformation

Self-transformation is what Abba does;
For every self on earth must be transformed.
Abba makes diamonds from selves in the rough;
Abba enables us to be reborn.

Internal selves, our very heart and core,
Must be made new to walk in Abba's way;
The love of Abba comes within and what is more,
The love of Abba has been there always.

Only by practice can the race be run,
You choose a life -- a life that you will make,
And practice Abba's way as you move on.
Abba is with you every step you take.

People saw me and called me Master, Lord,
And took me for some super-being on earth;
I merely saw what life is moving toward,
And felt the power of Abba's inner surge.

I am a planter. Abba is the seed;
His image the a seed within each soul;
His pattern answers every human need
And is the only way to be made whole.

If you are mired deep in worldly cares,
And glamorized by dreams of wealth and fame,
You will will have trouble finding Abba there;
Indeed you may not even know his name.

But those who hear see through earth's shabby round,
Where conflict seems the only valid choice;
Their ears are upon but one holy sound,
It is the sound of Abba's still small voice.

I sing the life that follows Abba's way,
Embracing values beyond cant and show;
And free to be who one is come what may;
I sing the life that goes where Abba goes.

I came to set up fortresses on earth
Not made of stone, not garbed in kingly robes,
I came to gauge things by Abba's sole worth,
And point to life beyond the world's vain shows.

Self-transformation is what Abba does;
For every self on earth must be transformed.
Abba makes diamonds from selves in the rough;
Abba enables us to be reborn.

On Passions

There was a time you called your passions ill;
But surely from our passions virtues rise.
Our highest goals, the fruit of our best will
Produce what is most beautiful and wise.

Are you inclined to put down everything?
To act in anger and fanatic rage?
To let rage and resentment take high wing?
Why not instead transform them? That is sage!

Yes, turn passions to virtues, every one;
Let devils turn to angels, as they will.
Let wild dogs sing like birds in the bright sun;
And let each passion wells of goodness fill.

Then nothing ill need ever come to you;
Just know your passions and direct them well.
Then you will overcome in all you do;
And have good stories you can tell yourself.

On The Despisers of The Body

If you despise your body, please hear this.
Without your body you would not be you.
Are soul and body one? Yes, one it is.
It is the body that lets soul come through.

Awake to all that is your body now;
Within your body sense and reason live.
The spirit ranges from from toe tip to brow;
Body and soul, they are a single gift.

Your body is the home of being itself,
Whose reason exceeds your imagined store.
Allow your mind to wander, yes, to delve;
Then day by day you will know more and more.

Your spirit and your body, they are one;
Despisers of the body will not hear.
Still Abba speaks. Good news. A new day comes.
One day our wholeness will be crystal clear.

On Fleeing This World

So many wish to flee this world of ours,
They look around and then they look beyond;
This world is seen as under hostile powers,
Such persons only dream of moving on.

Some weary souls seek heaven with one leap,
The ultimate in but a single bound.
That's how religion's gods all came to be,
Custodians of fictional beyonds.

But Abba accepts inconsistencies,
And tolerates our endless confusion.
Our selves are who we are, right here and now,
Accepting Abba is our solution.

Oppose not earth and heaven, they are one,
For Abba lives within imperfect us.
Instead of fleeing, face life, bring it on,
Who works to transform this world? Abba does.

We do not know if heaven is a place,
But Abba makes us each his heavenly home;
His presence is what we should all embrace,
For life is us and Abba being one.

On Virtue

Peacemaking is a virtue, is it not?
The ones who cleave to Abba know it is;
"Your will be done on earth" is true virtue,
Though many comment: "How naive that is!"

But evil's power is now bound enough,
For good to triumph, if we act in trust;
The power of good is limited on earth,
But do not slight the power of Abba's love.

We are not here to passively receive
The weal of woe of grinding poverty;
We are not here to receive charity,
But rather Abba's self-sufficiency.

And we are here to move past where we've been,
All virtue stands or falls on seeing this.
If we should move with Abba, good might win,
And we might better know what virtue is.

On The Self

I see the self as spectrum, dynamo,
The self can be entrapped or wholly free
From all the powers and principalities.
The self can be sublime or lost in fear,
Secure or caught in patterns which enslave.

I do not hold to mystical high realms,
For Abba holds the whole self in his hands.
And few there are who know what comes from what,
Or how the energies within us flow.

The self that lapses toward passivity,
Will turn a blind eye to Abba within.
A shock, a nudge, an unexpected change
May well be needed before change begins.

The self that's runs on cruelty and spite
Is likewise deaf to Abba's still, small voice.
It takes a massive reawakening,
To give back to such selves a sense of choice.

The self is more conscious than science says.
A canny wisdom reflects residues
Of freedom and therefore of dignity;
Take these away, you commit homicide.

What will it take for all the world to see,
The self can change deep down, internally?
Incessant grinding out of useless talk
Cannot gainsay the truth I's have you see.

A woman once pursued me shamelessly,
In search of healing she could never find;
All doctors found her living hopelessly,
With wounds and fissures none of them could bind.

Out of her desperation Abba rose
And deep inside propelled her way to me
She listened to the prompting and came close
And her embrace of Abba set her free.

I have a diagnosis for all beings,
No pill and no prescription will suffice:
Clear space within yourself for Abba's voice,
And your will shall be freed to remake life.

Without this faithful will, I could not heal.
Without an active self, disposed to hear,
Without a stand up self, that wills to see,
Without a spectrum self, no one is free.

I see the self as spectrum, dynamo,
The self can be entrapped or wholly free.

On The Kingdom

The kingdom or the realm of God's at hand --
A paraphrase of my first public words.
Amazingly preserved with much that's wrong,
For my good news is encapsuled in this.

Half of what's preserved speaks of the realm --
And echoes: "Repent and believe this news."
The good news is that Abba is at-hand,
Available to help us at all times.

I came to help restore a fallen world,
And now I come again to do the same;
Religion turns my message into dross,
To let it sing once more is my sole aim.

Peace, justice, trust, simplicity and love,
Such values are not high in human terms;
But these are values written on our hearts,
If we let Abba's light within us burn.

Less "Caesar" then to render substance to.
Less designation of lives as forced work.
Instead responsibility holds sway,
Each person's needs are honored, not betrayed.

As there is more awareness of Abba,
Our vision of life flowers and expands;
For we live more and more within the realm,
Where Abba rules, befriends and understands.

Be Abba's friends now, come, alive and close,
Companions on the way that Abba takes.
Forsake the frowning crowds, the milling herds,
And walk the path that living within makes.

For Abba turns all values upside down,
Exposing what is false of every stripe.
No fixed laws will suffice for truth eludes
A shabby justice and a care denied.

The realm of Abba seeks strong, living friends,
Whose values are writ clear upon their hearts,
Companions who will laugh along the way,
And sing and dance. Of such are this realm made.

Sing to outcasts, bring joy to solitude,
Seek those who have an ear for deeper truth.
Let happiness in you be their welcome,
And Abba's realm will one day overcome.

On The Good News

The good news is not that Jesus is God.
The good news is the truth I first proclaimed.

God is available to human beings,
Call him Abba -- for father and for friend.
Abba is near to help fulfill your life,
And harmonize your life with others too

We live on an abundant planet home,
Which we have plundered, raped and torn in two.
The good news is that Abba is with us,
And Abba's power in us redeems the world.

The good news is that Abba is for us.
I came precisely to make this truth clear;
In hopes the world would see and understand,
Instead, religion turned truth into fear.

The good news is connection has been made,
Between Abba and us -- it is that close.
Yes, Abba's nigh, present, available,
Protector, guardian, guide and loving friend.

The good news is that because this is so
Each person is creator, strong and free;
In partnership with Abba and his way.

The good news is our real guilt is transformed,
Along with weakness, sorrows, heartbreaks, pain;
With limitations, we achieve good things --
And treat our neighbors just as we would be,
For we return the gifts that we receive.

The good news is not that Jesus is God.
The good news is the truth I first proclaimed.

On The Messiah

Your bible speaks of me as Messiah;
Your bible speaks of me as Jesus Christ.
Your bible makes of me the gospel whole;
Your bible is your bible, it's not mine.

Don't be so shocked, consider what is true:
The good news is not what's been made of me;
The good news is the truth that time has won:
Abba is near, available, alive.

I saw the principalities and powers,
Ready to crush this seeming blasphemy.
I'd but to say I act with Abba's power
To be killed at the hands of enemies.

And so to death upon the cross I went,
And then to legend and theology;
And now to sentimental, feel good, praise:
Select a text and focus all on me!

I came to simply say Abba is near,
Repent, believe, this is the good news now.
And Abba will live happily within,
All those who turn from life's idolatries,
Enjoying life with Abba deep inside.

The very being that gives being to all,
The very source of goodness, light of life.
To call Abba the force is better sense
Than tomes of doctrine, indefensible.

I knew a tiny remnant would see true,
I knew the tempting way would be the rule.
I knew the fickle ways of swaying crowds,
Their other-worldly superstition too.

See now the texts that join all texts extant,
Creating religion in place of truth;
It's not enough to speak of force and power,
Available, within all who believe.

How many times must we start yet again?
How many will believe that we are free?

Ah, my frustration is not terminal,
Each day gives birth to possibility.
The sum of poet's prophecy and faith
Is Abba's inner all-sufficiency.

So have an eye for progress on this earth,
And breathe in Abba's presence as you go.
And you will walk the road of victory,
And know more than the theologians know.