ACCUSER OF THE DARKNESS

In the black of the night, still he found me,

In a cliff-side beach bungalow.

As I tried to find peace in the darkness,

And solace in sleep's solitude.

Though I fled my own country, he finds me,

Whenever happiness dwells,

Whether in forests or beaches or cities,

He can always discover me there.    

                                       

He can turn my light into darkness,

My hope into loss and dismay,

All peace to distress and confusion,

And my dreams into terror and fear.

His tactics are always unchanging,

For when I wake he must flee,

So he waits till I peacefully slumber,

And he stirs my mind's cauldron again.

The relentless attacks of the Accuser,

As he whispers of failure and loss,

And he forms a mosaic of agony,

From the memories wrenched from my mind.

He speaks with the voice of my father,

And the words of death sound again,

And the faces of those who accuse me,

All live in the 'house of my friends'.   

  

I still hope in One who is greater,

Who can take all of life's pain away,

And I want to believe there's a Heaven,

'Cause I know that he can't reach me there. 

I believe in a world full of kindness,

In a place where all may be free,

And if I ever can find it,           

There'll be somebody waiting for me.

29/12/12

It Looked Like Death Had Won.

 19/2/2012

She was found there dead in her drug-strewn room,

A wasted, if privileged life,

And the songs that she sang

Were marred with the shame,

Of a wretched untimely end.

And the scornful voices rose loud and hard,

And the eulogies rankled the heart,

So the Internet buzzed with the sorry tale,

And it looked like Death had won.

They scorned too the one who hung a corpse,

He died a vile felon's death,

Even in death there, a soldier thrust,

A spear through his tortured side,

The ‘King of Kings’ lay there alone,

And although he gave up his own life,

And he’d offered no curse in exchange,

Then it looked like Death had won.

We live our lives the best we know how,

And we make some mistakes on the way,

And the times that we mess up seem scribed in stone,

With the eyes of the world watching there.

So the loser, the drunkard, the beggar, the fool,

Can hope in just one faithful word,

“Who shall condemn those that I have loved?”

If it looks like Death has won.

Inspired by the words of T.D.Jakes today about Whitney Houston.