City Life

Got to get out of the city
Girls getting to pretty for
Its lights, and its hype, and
Its pages that are written,
I am in the building and its
Structure, I am the future,
I am the rock He will build on,
I am craving silence, I am thirsty
For noise, I am easily satisfied,
Easily distracted, easily redacted
And snapped like a twig,
I am the bruised reed that
He will not break, I am the smoke
To my own flame, for the world’s
Water has quenched this love,
Nothing shall separate,
Not even my own principalities,
My own priorities,
My own proclivities
To live like myself,
To put love up on the
Shelf, to die and live
In this city, for it conforms
Me, it calls to me, brokenness
Exists outside the walls I have
Been most comfortable in

Noise On The Street

I feel it in the street
I feel it in the heat,
The hair that once filled
This head has grayed out
With wise words once said,
Is it in me—that thing called
Foundation, called elevation,
Called humble adoration—
I dig down deep but not deep
Enough, I skip to the beat of the
Street and the sirens and sounds
Of pylons surrounded by road flares,
I see the urgency, I see the ambulance,
A chaser I am, a seeker I am, the words
Drain me, for the words surround me,
The next generation is waiting in
Anticipation, waiting for adoration,
All of our words they empty me
In the head they fill me,
I am addicted to the praise of the
Street, and the beat that follows me,
Man lifted up can never get to high,
For three days I cannot spend in the
Ground and bury around, and bury
Deep for grace to abound—the words
Of life, they don’t live deep in me—
A resetting, a redoing, a rewiring—
Let the noise of the street not
Outdo the voice from above, that
Splits and tares and tears inside
Of me