The King’s Head

The Poet’s Cry Before the Fall

As the bells chime on this night,
I fill the glass with wine,
And by the candle’s fading light,
I begin my cry in rhyme.

A night of poetry and prayers,
Beneath the ancient throne,
For we the people are the heirs,
Though the crown it has no home.

The kingdom once stood proud and tall,
With honour as its shield,
But shadows now creep through the hall,
And sorrow fills the field.

The king who swore to guard the land,
Has turned his face away,
His people cry, they reach their hands,
But he’s deaf to what they say.

He follows voices from afar,
And leaves the old ways behind,
While fires burn beneath the stars,
And unrest grows in soul and mind.

The bells still ring, the ravens call,
The storm begins to rise,
A kingdom divided soon may fall,
If wisdom leaves the skies.

O King, before the swords are drawn,
Before brother fights with brother,
Hear the poet’s cry before the dawn,
And remember one another.

For crowns are dust and kingdoms fade,
The cresent will lose its shine,
But the love a ruler gives his people
Outlives the idols shrine.

So I raise my cup beneath the cross,
Not for war, nor for despair,
But for the hope that comes with loss
When truth finds a voice in prayer.

Let the bells chime one more time,
Let mercy take the throne,
For a king who forgets his people
His head must stand alone.

Matter Doesn’t Matter

Matter doesn’t matter,
Though kingdoms rise and fall.
Gold will lose its glitter,
Proud towers will fall small.

Dust returns to dust,
As every grave has shown.
But Christ has conquered death,
And calls His children home.

So let my heart seek treasure
No thief or moth can claim.
Matter doesn’t matter,
Only the love of Christ remains.

The Empty Chair

I know long and lonely roads.
My hands, like my pockets, are used to being empty.
There are pieces of me I’ll never find,
and still he tempts me.

I’ve lost money,
family,
lovers,
even friends who swore they were brothers.

An empty chair where she once sat—
a smile, a nod,
a little chat.

Yet through every loss, one truth remained:
Jesus.
Jesus never left me,
just as Saint Matthew proclaimed.

A Spirit Built to Last

You broke my heart but not my spirit,
You left me bleeding in the rain.
You promised to protect me,
Then caused the pain.

I searched for love in empty places,
For arms to hold me tight.
But when I needed someone beside me,
I stared out shadows through the night.

Yet God was there in every tear drop,
Every battle no one knew.
When the world turned its back upon me,
He was there when I crawled through.

The scars I wear are not my weakness,
They are proof I made it through.
Tears, trauma, and lies
But I found my strength, in what was true.

And now I stand with love, still an anger of the past.
I was broke but not destroyed,
Ive a spirit built to last.

My Next Steps

I try to think of my next steps,
but different versions of me roar in my head.


I cannot force them into silence.
I try to ignore the noise
and focus on who I am becoming,


but even in stillness there is shouting—
a crowd inside my mind.


Yet beneath it all, I am not rushed.
Something deeper holds me steady.


I am not only conflict.
I am also preparation.
Not only war, but readiness for peace.


God, be present in this choosing.
Do not leave me to my divided self.
Be the still point in my turning,
the key to my release.

High Waves

Like a boat on high waves after the sun has set. I stand in the darkness, with fears I can’t forget.

The storm may be raging, the night may be long. But faith is my anchor, and hope is my song.

Hold on tight, let courage rise. Dreams are born beneath darkened skies.

One more wave, one more fight. The dawn will come, bringing light.