Thursday, 12 April 2012

vine dresser

please don't cut me off
pour your river into me
pollarded trees are all around me
cuts n bruises savage me
i  am in a fallen orchard branches twigs and collaged forms
the foliage is all illussion parasitic ivy moss
greenery yet river passes your my author uour the boss
kindly father you've a purpose on the tree
the crucifix
excruciating pain you bore for all of me and all my us

i me mine and all the friendship kindly and encouraging isaiah 55
come get me like the old 55 liverpool bus taking me back to my mother and a dad who cared for me cared for david yet was flawed to trimmed my father kept him dancing put your word inside his soul
he drove for miles with little caravan forty years and holidays giving isable his mary memories

van morrsion you too have faithful faithfully enclosed your tears in several enveope of lyrics albums of your fallen leaves tears a plenty in the spirit friends fall away and leave us hurt where oh where my old friend arthur
lord you've left me standing here without so many gorageous branches frederick fanck and brrian beadles art muraski technical able bodied able minded gentle fathers brothers all when i had lost the fuel i carried wasted pages buzan mindmaps endless possibilities did i cut of my own hands then when i said i will not go back to anyone who hurt me did not value me nor know that the spirit that you gave me was God hearted soaked in joy little child and gentle lover lost in wonder playful childlike chritian boy oh i hear the critics taunt me perhaps you sevvered their limbs too as when they reached out for wrong reasons they found they weren't samaraitan but strangers yet starngers may well be your angels and thought they bruise and cut at us yet you find a purpose in them not a purpose to confuse for you are the holy river loving god i read psalm on word of god flow mighty in me when they sap me with old roads memories the devl haunts us says got but of course jesus taught the devil always that he is our shepherd there to guide us back and garden with us pull away the sad old thorns from such times with gathered roses we'll come through productively isaiah 55 is in me will not retrun without achieving holy purpose for your child i smile sometimes in purest mystery in innocence you give to me blow some notes sad sounding wonder grumpy grumbling zen of faith achy sounds an laments really blues upon a b flat heart
like a child i wear pyjamas neath my clothes for most the day arta and art and kind young girlfriends are you coming out to play will you hold a distance from me will you know the fathers joy as sincerely you explore them roads a plenty you have seen roads that you have left to strangers find your way on pollard trunk to the father to the rive snow up high with gambling lamb springing four feet simultaneous deeper than foundation base winds are blowing any answers dylans bluesharp blowing too oh to etch again in heaven better thought and better ways deeply bitten open bite it won's hold ink unless i rough its wounds gravel pathsa and sores a pletny hold the blood pull out my throns how 'd we feel to pull those prints my friends held outr breath as from the kiln curtains opened on performance shared communion of care door curtains open them to air and lungs a fresh with love and hope and new life perhaps somewrere over the rainbow beyond old mill like teeth pulled out that mountain is put one samll mouth piece of the sheperd blowing pipes to gather all the ideas and stone soup goodness drawing all into the mix we have learned that individually god does love us i am mine but also his i am not your if you are lonely if you cling and hide the truth i am onlu everybodies though your pride may hit the roof so another plays and i don' for i have a lot to learn if i haven't made the measure kirstis right i have to earn so with effort cut me back lord make my efforts focused on you pour the light from dryier chanels purer image holy lamb how i want to share the goodness of the concert of pure skill ellusive fluid fab and frinedly head me for th holy hill get the cross you always had then ready with those killing pins how i'm sorry for the sadness of unlovingness in me sex has brought me to sad passage intimacy stopped in me girlfriends choose to leave me harmles sad in memory man no more implore with a spaniels features mother in them love me more yet i seek that jill for this jack take me back to high loves hill where the river is unsullied pollrded braches bare new twigs sap and leaf not moss n ivy reality in some apline flower white a springing lamb an d flower blossom me thought fruit has severed now now children can i seed when i draw i must not upload them for they are not real nor read god he will not deny me he told me from desire of old at a college summer holiday he will love each hollow broken reed

thankyou for my morning pages holy water pour through me allegory and film as parable vow
goodwill and shipping news
pay it forward
ediie izzard performces emotional memories the landscape of a holy god we cannot see past our talking like the glass the eyes are shaded cannot see with purer vision lest decluttered we stand bare
boy and girl and holy spirit in your garden trusting share

so you stay again conctented safe in some old comfort zone as i leave unholy faamily waiting in god's waiting zone send me leaf or send me braches let me write like herge now let tove johnnson out in spirit enid blyton minister now no don't want the eerire stuffed stuff damien hurst and manzoni poo

i like winnie  ilike gentle i love jesus yes i do
bring me chilkdhood beatrix potter country cottage seeing eye hope of heaven fluid lines abaundant river float with me to forvever playful giver in my thought my mind my hair in each inky fingered loving stains a plenty fallen lives hopefilled pens of chapters given to a real and loving wife i would ask my god for sap then as i come to dance alone don't know all the moves moved through me not until they are your own i know god and he s my courage though the nest fall off and are thrown last years harvest loves old faces weary wolf sheepclothing ownded give away the sad old foxes ermine stoves and staves that force metronomes are tiny minded clicking tics for cuckoo clocks go back to your own nest i beg you do not peck me half to death lord rewind the springs insside then as you take their unimaginativeness to rest svere then the sppring of contact with the modern jive of moves till we find spontaneous signals holy wine and holy grooves riffs a plenty int his river as we share creativity let me alone to watch the clouds changes icy shadows over we,  nboy and girl and loving father orchard of ture loving score a story home a path a village pots in fingers holding more amen

it is no secret what God can do what he's done for others He'll do for you with eyes wide open he'll see you through it is no secret waht God can do so be like him and live a none secretive life from now on no duplicity and then no half truths nor lies a single breath to breath  the true air unsullied amen

 i have had a hard gruelling sad time when wanting to play out in god's holy garden lord cut the head off the snakes and the adders of loggerheads and other unholy unwholesome dark sided memories amen

there is no dark side when your heart is flooded with truth light hope belief honesty encouragement amen amen

tahn k God for dee fine arts the future blue moon that saw me standing alone with easel painting pictures of no love of my own but not without a dream in my heart amen

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