Poetical Memoirs of Jerusalem

Memoirs of Jerusalem

Suicide Bombing

Have you ever walked down the streets of old Jerusalem,

and wondered if some Arab's gonna jump yo' bum,

'cause you're America, and there's a war going on,

And seen the blood flowin' and carcasses rotting of the scraps of meat left from the butcher's cleaver,

and the devil whispers in your ear, "you'll be like one of these."

And felt betrayal of the family and the friends you know,

and some because the love was growing cold,

was never really there you know?

And been torn by religious abuse and emotional scandilation

of greedy covetous 'Christians'

And just wanted to die, and almost succeeded,

just wanted to die, 'cause this life is torture,

just wanted to die, from disappointment beating,

just wanted to die.

Have you ever had the ride you take to work

blow up! just blow-up!

and you just missed it Blow up!

'cause it hadn't quite reached your stop

and seen people 'round you dying,

while the news shows buses burning',

and arms hanging out the windows,

just the arm without the body,

and heads rollin'

Blue skies and sparrows seem like weak analogy

to a world in need of just some sympathy,

a world of evil atomic power and principality

And you're feeling foreign in your parents' home,

just like you're sleeping' on a pad just out their door

While you're looking for a place to stay,

and everyone just turns away,

and you're not afraid to work,

but somehow its looking like a desperate chore,

and you feel bored.

And all your prayer just hits a cement wall,

like He's listnin' but really doesn't care at all.

Words

As you take another rip at my flesh,

With words so coy as you whip my back,

Your sarcasm is just too much,

And your words are like ice that cut my heart.

And I'm taking your flagellation,

Execution, oh so well,

And your kiss of betrayal, friendship denial,

Just takes the cake.

You think that you're just fine,

As you walk on by and push me aside,

And you tear another piece from my face,

You think I can't feel these nails?

Your words just crucify me.

Father in heaven, will you hear my prayer;

Hear my prayer --

Forgive them, forgive them;

For they, don't even know what they're doing;

And they don't know how much it hurts.

They don't know what they're doing,

And they don't know how much it hurts.

And I feel your mocking voice,

With your crown of thorns -- your words so choice,

As you spit again in my face,

You think I can't feel these nails?

Your words just crucify me.

As You

Will you love me, though you think I am wrong?

Will you love me, though I’m not as strong?

Sometimes I think that I’m always right,

And we just end up getting in a big fight,

But we’re just learning how to walk in the Light;

Will you love me, though I’m not as true as you?

Will you love me, though we’re not the same,

Will you love me, for the sake of a Name?

I know we’re looking through different eyes,

Though the shoes we wear are not the same size,

And I think the grass is green like the skies,

Will you love me, though I’m not as true as you?

Will you love me, though I’m not as true as you,

As smart as you, as strong as you, as righteous as you, as holy as you.

Will you love me, though I’m not as true as you.

Will you love me, in spite of all that I do, though I’m not as pretty as you,

though I don’t have as much as you,

Though I’m not as committed as you, as quick as you, as cool, as correct, as special, as big, as loving,

As you.

War Tale

Bullet's flight, caught fire by night,

and flew through the mist bloody-quick.

Too swift for a steed and a man wistful-he,

riding swiftly through dark summer's eve.

Its head gripped quick, to the flesh of his arm,

burning pain flowing forth - in bleeding alarm.

Its then-burning head dripped blood afire,

and in his wound the ache rose higher.

Off the path he viewed another lit dart,

with careful aim; it flew straight to his heart.

Through loss of blood and hallucinic rage,

a page of his life was writ',

The man in the night grasped from his back,

his own gun-bullet in a fit.

His strength and courage wrought vengeance,

upon the man who wished his death.

So he took his own aim toward a third small blaze,

which initiated the way of fate.

Though distant it seemed, the man recognized,

the eye wishing death through deed.

Before second thought, the gun he pulled taunt,

and 'leased a cold-dry-dark spell,

Toward vengeful justice, or was it?

to draw blood from his own brother's well.

Home

As the moon rises on the plain,

And the children dance and play,

She follows the midnight light,

To a place where children play;

They've finally found a home.

They've finally found a home.