Beauty for Ashes

There use to be a site called Beauty for Ashes, but it is no more. Here are a few poems I choose for you .

Poetry from Steve M.

and

Beauty for Ashes

dedicated to the jaded, the wounded, the hard hearted and the seekers.

Beauty for Ashes and Outcast Press was formed to meet the needs of those who do not fit into molds made by religious beaurocrats. They use art and poetry to take the Gospel into the real world. They also have lived in the shadows, faced and conquered various addictions and have felt rejection and scorn from people who do not understand the underground community. The people they reach out to are tatooed, pierced, weary and jaded.

Outcast

there is a subculture that has members worldwide.
we are called Outcasts.
some of us wear our damage on the outside.
we are scared and battered. some of us have wounds that can be seen outwardly.
we do not fit in to mainstream society.

2000 years ago when Jesus came to this world
He had a specific destiny. He came for the misfits and rebels. He came for the weak and the sick.
He came for the damaged ones. His death on the cross, burial and resurrection provided the power
for those of us lost in the shadows to change our lives.

His love can break the chains that hold us captive. His mercy can calm our anger.
His forgiveness can set us free. We can no longer say that we are alone.

Therapy

can i take my addictions into your church
can i sit on your padded pews
can i bleed on your carpet or do you want me when i'm clean and not now.
can i take my addictions into your theology
is it big enough to face my pain
or will i stain your glass with street smells and sweat
where can i go
where can i go when i'm addicted...

Happytown

everyone wants to live in Happytown
no pain. no fear .no death. no hell.
everyone wants a house with a white picket fence
no rain. no floods. no break-ins. no fire.
every man wants a perfect little world
no war. no dictators. no bombs. no army.
every man wants a perfect woman
no blemishes. blond hair. blue eyes. nice tan.
every woman wants a perfect man
nice job. new car. good money. strong face.
but no one ever wakes up in Happytown
because it doesn't exist in this world
down here it's not so perfect
people bleed. people cry. people break down
yet everyone chases a vision
ignoring...always ignoring the Only Perfection
there is a town called Hope.
deep in the heart, ruled by a King
open to all...the door is a Son
the city is real.

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...not a church...not religion...not beads and statues...not stained glass...not crushed velvet pews...not a pulpit...not a choir...not condemnation...not piety...not holy condescension...
not televangelist hype...only love...only God's love... saved me.

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Bones

we once lived in the dead zone
heart beats muffled by tombs
and marking stones/we were dwellers of the night
running from the light
from voices and memories
until Your love
drifted like incense
surrounded us gently
and filled us with hope.

Tombstone Eyes

they say there are windows that tell stories
no way to hide the pain in the soul
and some faces are graveyards
with tombstones for eyes
the date of death engraved
while the heart still beats

Reasons to Die

she thinks about death...often
she imagines an exit shaped like a gun
or a hand full of pills
it's not because of what's been done
it's because of things not done
the words never said
the face never stroked
the shoulders never hugged
she doesn't really need a reason to die...
she needs a reason to live.

Reasons to Live

a nail scarred hand reaching into your soul
the promise of healing and life
One has come to set you free
Jesus.

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