I will teach you

Come out and play
Come out and see the sun
Its seen millions like you
And much more to come.

Come and see the rain
As it waters a new life
Catch it, play with it,
Its given and taken lives.

I will teach you the sting of the bee has its sweetness
And the call of the wild bird is none less
I will show you the proud hen and its new egg
And the new born calf on its twisted shaky legs

Come out and watch
For you the stars are dancing
Little spots of wonder
Searching the deep and distant darkening

Come out and touch
The earth with your bare hands
Climb up on trees, they hold,
Great stories of the lands

I will teach how clay bends in the hands of the potter
And to catch a worm, to catch a fish from the river
I will show you how silk from a worm is threaded
And how coloured dust on the butterfly is embedded

I will show you trees fighting for the light
And the sunflowers with faces to one side bright
I will show you the sleepy leaves of the big Rain tree
And the strong roots that break out from rock free

Come out and sing
Shout into the wind
It’s the breath of the earth
That holds the quiet and the din.

Come out and see
I’m the boy walking sheep
I’m the girl with pots at the tap
I’m the one through train windows you see,
And what you call education, doesn’t apply to me.

The earth and me

There is beauty everywhere Every little thing a miracle. 

Stop! Look around, it costs nothing

 “All for your happiness” says the creator of everything 

 We've been here a long time So long that we can't fathom 

What have we done to Gods heaven 

Turned it to hell, an inheritance for our children? 

 What have we planted ? Have we given off a thing? 

To the earth that gives light and beauty 

That asks for nothing more but love and unity. 

 Is progress more buildings? more cars? 

Air-conditioned and guzzling gas 

Where is the great garden God lent? 

Where is that place I'm expected to tend? 

 There are children still dying out there 

There are the old, lost and confused

 There is an old earth slowly rotting 

Why bother when I have everything ? 

 Is it only in death that we will give 

Not a contribution or a hand out 

Is it only in death that we're generous 

When ashes become ashes and dust to dust? 

 And when I look back and time is past 

Will there be water to dry my thirst? 

Will there be my tree to rest under? 

Will there even be an earth, for my last slumber?

The Cycle

I'm new, I'm just born
Pure and innocent as a flower can be
The jewel for my parent's,
The center of attraction for all around me
The dream come true for my family
But what will I turn out to be?
That, they'll have to wait, watch and see

I can just about walk now
Mumble a little and cry my displeasure
Of anything that doesn't taste nice,
Or given in small measure.
I like school as we just sing and play.
But the television is my bestest friend
With hours of cartoons, that never end.

I've finished with school now
They've tried to teach me a lot
But I've grown smart. I'll decide for myself
What's needed and what's not
Church I visit when there's nothing else
A Sunday is a time on myself, I can splurge
Would be a pity, I think, to waste it in a church

I'm much older now
Working, with money to spare
On friends, clothes, bikes, and mostly myself
I live without a care
And one day I bumped into an old guy
'I got no money for you', I happily lie
'Why can't they keep these guys in a home,
to wait their turn to die'.

I've got children now
The sparkle in my eye
My little dreams for my future
A solid investment in time
And when I'm gray, bent and old
I'll have my children around me, never alone.
Not locked up somewhere in a home

Why I've grown old now.
Time's long lines drawn across my face
My children I see little of
Sometimes, not even a trace.
Nothing much to do alone
Just waiting for another day
I'm just another in a home somewhere nearby
Nothing to look forward to, just waiting to die?

The Naivetivity

O Little Town of Bethlehem
How still we see thee lie
Shattered and littered with death and disease
When did ignorance begin, and will it ever cease?

They heard the bells on Christmas day
In warning, not celebration or gay
They warned of bombs that kill, and enemies.
Of stupid wars that destroy love, and families.

Away from danger they try and hide
In mountains and in caves
Away from man and nation’s greed
But Death, for more still craves.

Hark! the angels once sang
Of hopes and dreams for man
Of peace on earth and mercy mild
Will foe and enemy ever be reconciled?

Love came down at Christmas
But for more is all I whine
Never satisfied, even in excess
Why should love be ever mine?

My Saviour

Flesh and bone, bruised and broken.
My Saviour in fear and confusion.
The soul thirsty, torn and stretched,.
Thinking distraught and vision enmeshed.

The Pharisees stood, proud and happy
The Saviour of the Jews, hung down lowly.
Pilate; his hands had washed; For in Him,
He found no charges of the Sanhedrin.

His mother stands helpless, watching nearby
A Saviour for a Son, now nailed and crucified.
The dream of youth, the lovely child
A Son of God? Or had the angels lied?

His friends and disciples left him alone
A Saviour was fine, but a criminal disown.
No followers or friends around, could be seen
To help him, they could only find Simon of Cyrene.

On Golgotha, two thieves, on either side
Of the Saviour that day was crucified
One mocked and cried ‘Save us all’
Or… ‘why doesn’t God, hear your call’?

The laughing screams of the mockers grew loud
The Saviour confused, sweat and blood on the ground.
The pain and agony, disappointment and sadness
Aching heart, fear, confusion and madness

And then with a loud cry he gave up his soul.
The Saviour Dead ? And silence was whole.
Heaven and earth wept, the curtain in Jerusalem tore,
Just like Caiphas’s coat, the night before.

The skies rained darkness. The soldiers ran
The Saviour crucified, the hope of man
Tombs broke and gave birth to their dead
The Son of God, for the world had bled.

But on the third day they found an empty tomb
Their Saviour was gone, only cloth in the room
An angel appeared and to them he said
“Why seek ye the living among the dead”?

I teach

I stand alone in front of young minds
Some eager, some distant, to what I have to offer.
Little minds that have to be moulded
Like clay in the hands of the potter.

What do I say to them? What to make them listen?
Is it strong words and the rod un-spared ?
Or words of understanding and of love
Or the knowledge from which I’ve prepared.

Young minds curious, inquisitive, questioning
Who made the earth? Can’t we do without geography?
Maths is a bore ! And science we need no more.
What’s with history or for that matter even biology?

Big minds of little stars with learned light to fuel.
What ideas can I employ , these unlearned to lure
To thoughts of greatness and knowledge retain
What understanding and magic conjure?

The pen of knowledge writes not for all
And for the most, it isn’t inked for long.
Help me Lord, not to force in understanding
But direct these little minds to find the right way on.

What is peace?

What is peace?
Is it before eyes close and breath is ceased
Is it the moment before a drop of blood splatters, and is deceased?
Is it the last note of a birds swan song
Or the second before a bullet breaks skin, because life is all wrong.

Is it that pregnant moment when joy is born?
Or is it when light chases night for a glorious morn?
Is it before metal touches wood, to fell the tree?
Or when the bubble climbs up water, and waits, before it breaks free?

What is peace?
Is it the anger from which it is born?
Or is it just the lull before the storm.
Does it require a thought or a reason?
Or just foolishness, to make a moment, a mourning season.

Why is happiness only for a moment?
Isn't it sad that joy is short, and so quickly spent
Why can't peace and happiness be on earth, as in heaven above,
Probably it will, when we learn to forgive, forget,
and to share God's love.

What have I given ?

Maybe a little of my money
Cause it bulges my pockets, and looks funny
Maybe a smile to someone I know,
But only to those who'll help me grow.

Maybe a thought of someone old
Hoping his Will, will have my name bold.
Maybe a little of my precious time
To any party, and friends of mine.

But what have I given to the one,
Who gave His life, His Son
Arms outstretched and tied with rope
Nailed to a cross, to give me hope?