Prison Ethereal

Strong bars glimmer in the light, not of steel or lucite,

Travail crushes the soul, inside and out, but not whole.

Pushing, pulling, pealing, popping, but not prevailing,

What doesn’t dare dispatch you cold, slowly steels your soul.

Hubris, a dark coop self made, self restrained, and self laid.


Brimming top to bottom, while cruel baffles box our bodies,

Trepidation enlightens a cold acceptation.

Struggle, strain, strip, and strike she doesn’t slip in the night,

A cruel mistress, mire and mirrors, master of care,

Haunts us haughtily, while her heart hurts us mightily.


Obduration is a deadly fiend, so dark and mean,

Terror is her tool to throw you in her sinking pool.

Rip and rave, row and writhe, wrest yourself of rancid pride.

Adoption frees a friend from his own fiery end, and

Hope is found when finding follows faith above the ground.

Coram Deo – 5/5/17

Ode de Coffee

Oh dark and dreamy bean.

Free me from night’s dim sleep

And dreary murky dreams.

Divine bouquet, black steep,

Sending drink, day’s bright dawn;

Fetch me labor’s deep fuel.

Banish all plaguing yawns,

With warm, shadowy jewels.

Ode To Family

On this day of birth, I will look back and see,

And tell of all the love that was given to me.

It was not long ago, nor much time to certain eyes,

That I was a child, who would receive many a surprise.

But the greatest gift ever given to me,

Was the love that would make me to be.

Looking back I can tell and remember of many a reply,

That would build in me and within, my strength solidify.

Though the years have come and given us leave.

I will never forget those within my family,

Who have loved this child and have formed my eyes,

I will remember all of them, for they are my prize.

To them I owe all of what I am to be,

For they made me be who I am to be, Me.


-Coram Deo

What the Torturer Couldn’t Do

He cut on my sinews,

And smashed on my head.

But its all he could do,

And from it I little bled.


What hurt me the worst

Was not beholding her frame

How I couldn’t see her words

Or caress her lovely name.


Oh to not see my ardor

Please don’t ask me again,

I would break any door,

Just to be with my friend.


Alas there is a door

Too strong to break

When he stands there

My strength to take.


Oh sickness is evil,

My friend he is not,

He casts upon the vale

And rides in the rot.


To feast on flesh

He thinks himself mean

But its not that flesh

That really hurts me.


It’s my heart in truth

That bears all the pain

Separation bit in its tooth

And my strength did wane.


Oh when will it end

My absence from her?

So I can again attend

My affection with her.

What Distance Ate

Distance has captured my love,

He will not let her go.
No matter how hard I pull,

He always runs the show.


I tried to free her from his chains,

Of silver and hard stone.

I pushed hard and hard I pulled,

Yet he didn’t even groan.


Distance is a formidable foe.

And hard he is to fall.

I called loud after my love,

Yet distance ate my call.


I tried to run and get her,

To pull her from his grasp,

But he wouldn’t have it,

He wouldn’t let me pass.


So now here I sadly sit,

To watch time’s passing by,

I wait here so silently

Waiting for just one more try.


-Coram Deo 2-18-05

Unseen Crime

It is a crime committed by them all,

Large, small, short, or tall.

It will not stop, this crime,

For it is a matter of time.


The tick brings on the tock,

And in it we see a lock.

One that we cannot break,

Or with us try to take.


Rather it has taken us,

Farther into its rust.

It seeps like sand,

In and out of our hand.


Its degrading nature,

Predicts our future,

Points to our demise,

And then passes us by.


Around and around it goes,

When it stops no one knows.

But with each wind,

It eats our precious time.


With each bite of its teeth,

It gives us no relief.

Slowly it devours skin,

And burns us within.


Their crime is their time,

While we sit and pine.


-Coram Deo 9-17-04

Set to Right

To the world who is too small,

To those who don’t care at all.

To the ones full of spit and foam,

To the breakers of happy homes,

Here comes your day to pay

And your time to pine.


To those bruised and broken.

To those who are unknown,

To the ones who live to die,

To those who always cry.

Here comes your song to sing,

And your hope to hold.


To the gentle and to the meek

To the ones who softly speak.

To the stranger with a smile,

To those who walked the mile,

Here comes your life to live,

And your star to see.


Here comes the Son of man

With His nail pierced hands.


-Coram Deo

Oh Fair Maiden

Oh fair maiden bright and true,

Don’t you know my love for you?

How I long for your hand to hold,

To live together and grow old.


Oh fair maiden of summer’s noon

Don’t you know what I would do?

I would love you tell eternity’s end,

And gravities pull ceased to bend.


Oh of fairer maiden there is none,

My love for you is the sun,

It burns my heart in its flame,

And consumes me at your name.


Oh fair maiden I wish you knew

How much I truly love you.

But alas I fear this dreadful turn:

My love for you wont be returned.


-Coram Deo

More Than Pure Gold

It was once asked of me,

And this is my answer told,

What has value intrinsically.

What is worth more than gold?


Does it take bold shape and hearth,

Or will it fit into a special mold?

Can we measure its true worth,

Or will that value be untold?


Following is my answer straight.

Very deep in our nature it lies,

Upon our bodies it does dictate

And we can’t escape what it buys.


It begins for us at our birth,

Different than all that would be;

For it has the greater worth.

But then leaves us too quickly.


Time I hope is what you see,

It is everything’s hidden cost,

And can only be seen circumspectly,

Yet it for us holds the greatest lost.


The opposite is true of course,

That it can also be our greatest gain,

And bring happiness in fervent force,

If we know and remember its name.


Time can be our greatest ally,

Our greatest friend indeed,

For it can mend a hurt eye,

And discourage an enemy.


It can tell of greater days,

Or remind of ones long past.

It teaches us better ways,

And demonstrates what lasts.


It can both strengthen the weak,

And yet soften the strong.
It uplifts the mellow and meek,

While it teaches us all a song.


In it we both wait and live,

For our new time to come,

And wait for what already is

While there is much to be done.
Its brief stay is short indeed,

So let us all enjoy our time,

For soon it will take its final leave,

And give us a new hill to climb.

Coram Deo 12-23-04


Funny it seems to me,

That all people believe,

Hold to ideas that are so wrong,

Thought truthfully strong.

Sitting behind their invisible walls,

They think everyone else so false.

Without mirrors to see,

Without the desire to believe,

They live in deceit,

And will never retreat.

Never will they run,

All they do is shun,

Flee to fabricated reality,

And curse what must be.

Can’t they see, don’t they know,

Will they let anyone show,

Explain what really exists,

What life really depicts.

All live behind walls, screens,

Bulwarks that can only be seen,

Be revealed through mirrors,

Or seen by peers.

Living Perfume

It consumes the nose in its unrelenting furry,

And controls the mind it’s trying to burry.

Lines of reason are lost to it’s bottomless take,

While the way is slurred in its vigorous wake.


It wafts so freely from the most fairest of men.

So potent is its perfume it even taints the land.

Hardly can it be noticed by the clearest of minds.

While slowly it controls and usurps power from Hinds.

Invisible Touch

He doesn’t know, nor can tell,

But he affects more than he sees.

Their false show, is their hell,

But he doesn’t falter in the breeze.


They don’t care, nor can tell,

But they kill when they breathe.

They suck air, and brashly yell,

But they still spread their disease.


When he smiles, we are strong,

But he doesn’t know his effect.

With the miles, he helps along,

And he earns all their respect.


Nobody will say, but we discern

He is the brother we didn’t earn.

Internal Tormenter

My head in my hands,

My thoughts drift from here to there,

Yet somehow they always,

Always come back to you:

My internal tormentor.

I guess this pain is good.

How else would I know I am alive,

Without you tormenting me?

My love, my torturer.

To be away from you

Tears at me.

To be near to you,

Kills me.

With you apart from me,

My only hope is your return,

With you here with me,

My only thought is you to be closer.

My unownable obsession,

Free like the wind you are.

Can I catch you in a net?

Can I trap you with a cage?

My foolish mind wishes,

You in my pocket dwell.

It is so hard to protect,

That which is free.

You have liquefied my heart,

And heated my soul.

Your touch scares and comforts me.

The world becomes haze,

A blur in your presence.

My hands quiver at the sight,

The touch of your beautiful lips,

And they long for your soft skin.

Your crystal, angelic eyes,

Oppresses any hint of my bitterness.

Your voice too magnificently calm,

And beautiful for my ears.

Your gentle yet strong spirit,

Has encaged me.

Your Godliness is displayed,

For the world to praise.

Your worth is too lofty,

For mortals to consider.

If you ever knew,

I have become your servant for life…

The truth is I want you to know.

I desire you to see,

All that you mean to me.

You are my hearts tormentor,

You are my greatest earthly Joy.

I hold you over all, except Father.

I love you more dearly than myself,

Don’t you know I killed myself,

And again I will die for you,

If you ask me too,

My lovely tormentor.

I Hate I

I have become that which I abhor

Everything evil nothing I adore.

I have brought my own demise

To this, my solid placid door,

And there is the terror in my eyes forevermore.


My hope did drown in mid flight,

Due the lack of Godly fright.

Whom do I serve in this life,

Is it I or something more bright?

Like one who holds life with a little more bite.


The meaning of my life is clear,

When I hold it most dear.

Perhaps a fool am I

But will this fool ever disappear

Or try and buy my filthy conscience clear?

Here Now Precious

Know this my precious, I am here.

I neither judge you nor see you ill.

You are beautiful like a burning star,

Here I come to you no matter how far.


Before God you stand and who am I;

To judge one who belongs in the sky.

Hear this cry my precious wife,

I love you and cherish your life.


You are pure beauty to me,

And I wish nothing else to see.

Before I met you; you I loved,

And I love you more now, my dove.


Hush now my darling angel I adore,

Hold me close now, you I implore;

Permit me to love away your tears,

Forever serve you all our years.

Darkness of Old

I feel the old darkness coming again

And it is laying a hold of me.

It is like a shadow falling down

And I cant feel to breathe.


There is a light shinning there too

And it is awakening life in me.

Like a strong wind coming through

And I don’t have to breathe.

Curiosity Kills

Curiosity opened my wrists

And spilled the warmth in my veins

As the heat left my wounds

A shiver went down my spine.

My spine now locking

Clutched at my heart.

As my heart lost its beat

It cursed my stomach

And commanded the bile beneath

To release and spew forth.

As the acid rotted my nose

It was filled, overwhelmed

With the stench of my curiosity,

And with it I died.

All Alone

All we want is something to touch,

And when it’s gone we’ve had enough.

Disgust fuels an empty mind,

And leaves a heart wholly untwined.

Too many days left at the last,

Alone thinking of what has gone past.

Bitterness rots a healthy heart,

And beckons life to depart.

The future looks to far to catch,

While the present kills the rest.

Fear composes an ugly tune,

And swallows light well past noon.


Radiating warmth, melts hardened ice black,

Centuries formed, and selfishly packed.

Bedazzling dreams, become inordinate reality,

Forever living, and eternally existing.


Troubled one meets, delicate soft rose,

Forever keeps and protects with pose.


Soft one remains, for changes begun,

Trouble becomes, tame, safe for the one.

A Riddle Of Nothing

Out of something has become nothing,

Where this nothing acts like something.

It cannot be chosen, but comes from choosing.

With it you earn something, but only by loosing.

To attain it you must first fall,

But it cannot be really attained at all.

For it comes from the lack of something,

But this lack is really to us nothing.

It doesn’t grow on trees,

But it is said to have seeds.

Those who seek it find naught,

But somehow they are by it caught.

It deceives and plays a beautiful reverie,

Where nothing lives and nothing will be.

Like a shadow it plays upon the bright days,

And for some it comforts them in its ways.

It is a fools pursuit to seek that which isn’t,

And that which will be found impertinent.

Do you know of that which I speak,

In a form of tongue and cheek?

It will not be found no matter how hard you look,

But you will see what it does, and who it overtook.

A Dream Now Seen

Now I will show you where beauty flies,

And display to you its true breed.

There, under the skin she lies,

Always wanting to be set free.

She is displayed in a breath;

Held close in many dreams

Always she will pass the test,

Showing the world what she means.

Pleasing is her presence told, while

Outside we receive her prizes,

Embodied in her very soul: the

Mortal with angelic irises.

Filth Chosen

What turns a wretched life from its deathly feast?
Who saves a man from the inward beast?
Where can he run to escape eternal shun?
What rock can bear the weight when it is all done?

Why didn’t the man see his deathly plight?
Where did the rest run off to in the night?
When did the man learn true fear?
Who made the foggy lens become clear?

Where did the strength come from to release?
When did he perceive the wrath to be unleashed?
Who made him cower in humble fear?
Who broke and taught scorn for all held dear?

Who breathes in men life to be set free?
Who grants men places in eternity?
Who picks men up off death’s cold shelf?
Who raises many men after himself?

Who knows all, and to all offers himself?
Where can men run and hide from the Son?

by Ryan Wormald

The Unsatisfied

I buy and spend all that I can,
Just to satisfy me.
I learn what I can to understand,
Just to satisfy me.

I do not understand why it does not
Help to satisfy me,
These things do not, that sit and rot,
Help to satisfy me.

I begged all the rot that I bought,
“Oh please satisfy me.”
To that which I bought, “what is my lot?
“Oh please satisfy me.”

My lot is to grasp not in my hand,
What will satisfy me.
For that in my hand is like the sand,
What will satisfy me?

So falls the sand, to grieve my heart,
Never to satisfy me.
Alas! The dreams of my heart do depart,
Never to satisfy me.

“Depart foul dreams, I want you not,
Do not satisfy me.
I love you not, you vile dark spot
Do not satisfy me!”

Now in this spot my heart does rot,
For it will not satisfy me.
In this rot I cry at the thought,
For it will not satisfy me.
by Ryan Wormald