Our throne.

MY ANGEL.

I’ve walked with and I’ve talked with an angel
He picks me up each time that I fall down
He’s one who knows and understands my heartaches
For just like me, he himself had fallen down
But like the serpent Moses lifted in the desert
He himself was lifted up upon a tree
Now he sit beside our Father in God’s kingdom
Where he intercedes with God for fools like me ….. The Anointed

The greater majority of poets will never claim that they are the creators of the poems that they write; in fact most will confess that they are merely scribes who record the words that rise up from the depths of their being and are themselves amazed as they witness the stories that unfold before them.
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So Let us paint these vivid pictures on the canvas of your mind
Let the colours that we're using, be poetic words that rhyme
Painting pictures of the future, pictures shaded by the past
And may our brushstrokes on your canvas, paint pictures that will last.

But every canvas that is painted on, reflects a different view
Be it abstract, real, or mystical, that all depends on you
For though the colours that we’re using, are our words soft and sublime
The paint upon your canvas is the memories of your mind.

Those with happy memories---with these pictures will be pleased
But can the sick and lonely people see beyond their miseries?
Ah! if only their sad memories could simply be forgot
If we could, but use some other paint? But sadly we cannot.

Yet perhaps the brilliant brushstrokes of the Master of us all
Will brighten up their canvas and their memories may recall
Visions of their childhood, happy days that shouldn’t end
Of birds and bush and swimming holes and laughter with good friends.

You’ll see some marvellous pictures, but to you we must confide
As students to the Master, who dwells deep down here inside
It’s not we who paint these pictures so spectacular and grand
And although we mix the colours, these are by the Master’s hand ..... The Anointed.

How much joy can one man feel, a consuming fire of love so real
A burning love for all that’s His, a love for He, in who all live.
The single one in who all begun, before the light of days had shone
When the Cosmos, you and I were one, declares to all, ‘I AM’ his son.
The only name with power to save, the name to who His sons he gave
Now I, who once with Him was one, return to where all had begun
For I must leave this earthly realm. My watch has come to take the helm
A swine who wallowed in the mud, now steers the course set by my God
This Galaxy that all can see is the body my God gave to me
Yet behind the veil you will not see, the me in you, though you dwell in me.

The Anointed.

THE CENTRE.

Of all the stars in heaven
And the space that lays between
It's centre is the planet of my birth,
And, as earth's horizon stretches outward
At equal distance from my throne
Then I hold the central point upon the earth.

As light and sound need time to carry
All their messages to me
My senses tell me, all has run it's race
And everything that's happened,
Has happened in my past
So, I hold the highest point in time and space.

A primitive concept some might say,
And a view that leads to sin.
But perhaps, we all were made this way,
To discover, "God Within."....... The Anointed.

Nothing can occupy your particular position in space/time. You are the centre around which the entire universe revolves.

The Spirit bears witness, “I Am Who I Am”
I have no need of the witness of man
The Spirit inside with who I am one
Cries out through his kingdom, Behold him, “My Son”
Here is the one in who I am pleased
He drinks of my spirit ---- on my word does he feed
Here is the spirit of he who once died
And was poured out on those who believed they would rise
And here they now stand as one cob of corn
From the seed that I planted, they as he are reborn
And they do I place on the thrones I’ve prepared
At the head of the body of my Son and my heir
For they judge nor condemn the body as one
But realise that He is my growing Son
Perfected by blood, now risen as He
Yes the voice of my Father cries out, “You are free”
A new creation that will live eternally…… The Anointed.

The Bread [Insight] and wine [Wisdom] of my Brothers

I’ve heard tales of the outback where I worked in harder time
I’ve camped among the Murrays, shared their damper and their wine
Rubbed shoulders with the millionaires met men down on their luck
And those the world calls misfits, the so called slime and muck.

I’ve gazed upon the light of man in all his different hues
And find I’ve got no right to judge and nor my friend do you
For we are all one mountain that travels on through time
And may the highest pinnacle be the goal to which men climb.

Yea! May that mighty pyramid with its missing crowning stone
Be the pattern for the life of man, let no one take that throne
May it always be rejected by the builders of each age
And so become the corner stone to a new and glorious page.

For the moving fingers writing on the universal page
And we are but the story that grows from age to age
For the WORD is ever growing as It moves eternal on
The next chapter in life’s story, will be the chapter of man’s son.

Does the story of man come to an end
Where the story of our glorious sons begin?....The Anointed.

From the kingdom of God with me I heard a distant cry
A voice from my past was pleading from the wilderness hot and dry
So I sank to the depths to reach him and my efforts were not in vain
For we merged and I sang from his future a song to ease his pain
And he heard and he felt my presence as he sank into rest sublime
Assured that his saviour existed in the future somewhere in time
And as he closed his eyes in rest, these words were heard so dim
“Forgive me child for tempting you and causing you to sin.

In earlier times, from deep within, I’d heard another cry
A voice from my future was calling, from a world somewhere on high
And I heard and I sensed his presence as he prayed to his God within
And he begged me not to tempt him, but to deliver him from sin
So! For our futures sake, I now am watchful of everything I do
And I plead with all my brethren, who live in his dead past too
“Don’t let our child of the future endure the terrible end
For it’s we who are his tempters, It’s we who make him sin"…..The Anointed.

What is the reward that a mind receives?
Surely it is, what that mind believes
So the mind that rejects eternity
When freed from its body, where will it be?

What is that body, which gave to you Birth?
Is it nothing but elements taken from earth?
Or was it created from the spirits and soul
Of your ancestral parents, from times that are old?

Believe as you will, but remember this verse
When your coffin is placed in the back of the hearse
The reward that the mind must surely receive
Is that which the mind, (Not in the Hearse) believes. The Anointed.

There’s a place down deep inside me
Where I mingles with me past
Where the spirits of me Fathers share their light
And I often drowns me mind there
And If you do it friend, you’ll find there
All the wisdom of your fathers
And their wonderful insight
It’s like when a drop of water
Falls in a vat of wine
It takes the colour and the essence of that drink
Now in the darkness of the dawn
Me descendants who are yet unborn
Have been coming down to me to make me think
They want to suck me brain for knowledge
Or some wisdom what I’ve gained
But it’s got me how they know just where to look
I mean, I’m a flamin no one
Just a shadow in their past
Unless of course me words get in a book.... The Anointed

KNOCKING ON YOUR DOOR

Pick me up Lord I’ve fallen down again
I’m so tired of trying to be a better man
The spirit’s willing, flesh is weak
And I can’t turn the other cheek
So here I am knocking on your door again

Yes, here I am Lord and I’m knocking on your door
Just like I’ve done so many times before
My whole life it’s in a shamble
I’m caught up in briars and brambles
And that’s why, I’m knocking on your door

Every time my world comes crashing in
And I’m weighed down with so much guilt and sin
I just fall down on my knees
And I beg with cries and tears
Oh Lord, wont you take me back again

How many times before did I repent
‘Cause I couldn’t stand the pain and punishment
I always run to you for help
Like some winging whining welp
Like now when to prison I’ve been sent

But this time dear Lord I’m true and blue
And you know that I’d never lie to you
So, help me out this one last time
And I won't turn back to my crimes
I’ll dedicate my life to being true
I’ll be good this time my Lord, I promise you..... The Anointed.