A STREET SPIRITUALITY THE POETRY OF DAVID CHRISTOPHER MARSH
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A
STREET
SPIRITUALITY
THE POETRY
OF
DAVID CHRISTOPHER MARSH
“A Street Spirituality- The Poetry Of David Christopher Marsh” could
not have been produced without the kind assistance of the Rough Edes
Community in particular; Des langella, Laurie Besant, Stephan Langella
and the Forbes Street community house.
CONTENTS About My Poetry
Towards Integrity
Searching
268 Chalmers Street
On Being Human
Fountain of Life
A Song for Freedom
Gethsemane
The New Wine of Cana
For Julie Hill
Fiona
Decisions
Bright Eden
Hippies
The Forgotten Christ
Arrogance
The Invisible Prayer Shawl
The Jesus Caravan
The Universal Church
Resurrection Memory
Icarus’ Mistake
Director of Circumstances
Nice Terminology
Underdog
Failures Express
God Bless
A Street Spirituality
Scars
Beggar Man Church
Street Meditations
Where Justice Speaks (for the war on terror)
My Poverty
In Memorium St Francis
Many thanks to my mother for passing on a love for the English lan-
guage. Thanks also to July Hill for believing in me.
All works are copyright 2002 and may not be reproduced in part or in
whole without the express written permission of the author.
Revolution Sonnet
Railway Mystic
Manic Depression
Solutions
The Transcendental Outlaw (for Bob Dylan)
Selfishness
The Struggle
Territory
“Selfish” Love
Eternal Love
Ceremonies of the Streets
he Mustard Seed
A Hidden Christ
Jesus Christ Alive & Well in Darlinghurst
The Regarded Degraded
Street Mystic
The Unexpected Messiah
The Kingdom
Rough Edges Cafe
Transcendence
Jesus Christ Dreamcatcher
The Ultimate Friend
The Lord’s Prayer
Providence
Refugee, My Country
All Possible Goodness
Icons
Mystic Creed
A Blessing
A BLESSING
May you know by your heart what is real
May living waters cleanse your soul
By loving may you understand
To live the life that God has planned
Because of you may others live
Because of you may others love
That you may find within your heart
A paradise, a work of art
ICONS
I cried bitter tears
On stone steps
But Christ is with me
These poems have been drawn from 20 years of living near the streets.
Most of this time was spent in religious communities, where I learnt that
anything is possible!
Hopefully these poems will give an insight into street life and help people
to form a “street spirituality”.
The crowds cheered for more
Dylan, Bono, Baez, Donovan
And Buffy Saint Marie
Their tongues caressed and teased
My heart until it throbbed with longing
For distant lands unknown.
ABOUT MY POETRY
The desk is not self
The paper is not self
The pen is not self
But only an instrument MYSTIC CREED
I believe in nothing
That revealeth everything
I believe in everything
That revealeth God
The readers are not self
The poems are not self
But the poet is self
Though only an instrument
God created everything
Created out of nothing
I believe in everything I
believe in God
TOWARDS INTEGRITY REFUGEE, MY COUNTRY
There’s something you just can’t ignore
When truth is always at your door
You open it but just a crack
But choose to walk a different track
Refugee! Refugee!
My country cries to me
My sons and daughters cannot rest
For white man makes them flee!
Destiny! Destiny!
The white man tries to say
We will be the saviours
Because we know the way
Anonymous, the truth pretends
To neither know nor see
And rounds you up
To make you see
To bless you with
Integrity
Refugee! Refugee!
My country cries to me
The land itself is refugee
Integrity will set you free
Improving your identity
The door is open widely now
And solemnly the truth will bow.
From those who cannot see
ALL POSSIBLE GOODNESS
SEARCHING God bless all possible goodness
Anywhere and everywhere
By anyone and everyone Amidst the restless clamour
Quiet waits for time
Searching hearts to find
What clamour cannot give
Ferret out the nooks and crannies
Fill them with all goodness
Every time and every place
The Kingdom’s best be unto all
To all God’s creatures great and small
Till out and out and all in all
The universe is happy
Ways must part, the earth must turn
The journey must go on
Amidst the restless clamour
I must begin again.
THE LORD’S PRAYER 268 CHALMERS STREET
Meek and mighty God
Please walk with us
On the streets and everywhere
A silent observer of a vibrant house
Of good counsel and otherwise
Where I learnt the truth
That anything is possible May your ways be respected
By people as we meet them
May you meet our daily needs Where the absurd embraces
And kisses the meaningful
Where laughter is the
Order of the day
Take our wrongs and make them right
As you have already forgiven us
And steer us clear of trouble
For yours are the streets The footpaths and the alleyways
Now and forever
Where sadness came and went
With tragic lives unfolding
Where the background for everything
Never sought acknowledgement Amen
PROVIDENCE
ON BEING HUMAN Even the hairs on your head are numbered
Their number changes constantly
Hairs grow and hairs fall
Every one of them numbered. I look through churchyard archways
At starlit skies above
Then down at churchyard pillars
Rooted firmly in the ground
And stepping through I realise
As if for the first time
Something I had always known
The mystery of being human
The birds on the air find food
They don’t have to look very far
God sees when each bird dies.
The flowers of the field are clothed with joy
But you are much more beautiful
Providence takes consummate care.
FOUNTAIN OF LIFE JESUS CHRIST DREAMCATCHER
Here is a web without a spider
One which brings good tidings
One which wants the best for you
Jesus Christ dreamcatcher
Life is like a spring of living waters
Bubbling over into laughter
Life is pure
Life is joy
When you have a spring of living water Here the feathers that are your dreams
So your dreams may fly
Jesus Christ dreamcatcher You must go underground to seek the source
To find it you must look below the surface
To find it you must look with all your heart
And when you find your spring of living water
Your life and those of others shall be free
So heaven may embrace your dreams
And make your dreams come true
Jesus Christ dreamcatcher
A SONG FOR FREEDOM
Prison walls and prison bars
Do not a prison make
If prison bars are there when you awake
You must make your freedom for yourself
THE ULTIMATE FRIEND
A God who sees through everything
Who sees and understands
Whose Love could help anyone Nuns and monks and priests
Have their cells too
They meditate in silent hidden joy Who knows the way life should be
Who knows just who you are
Whose Love could help anybody Criminals love children so they say
Remembering we all were children once
Reflect awhile inside your heart and soul
And you will find the love to make you whole
ROUGH EDGES CAFE GETHSEMANE
Guitars and hangers on
And hangers out
And hangers in And coffee and cigarettes
And relationships
And food and restlessness.
She was black
She was dancing
To a theme of understanding
“Say a prayer for my brother
Say a prayer for my mother
Say a prayer for my lover
But, most of all
Say a prayer for me”.
Most importantly
The restlessness.
People hungry and thirsty
For more than food and coffee.
People come and people go
But the restlessness remains.
THE NEW WINE OF CANA TRANSCENDENCE
A spirit so subtly obvious
Defying translation into words
Where every one is accepted and loved
Rich or poor or in between
God is present in all things
In all impossible things
For nothing is impossible to God
From Adam to Jesus Christ
From birth to the great unknown
To scientific discoveries Where love’s graces are sprinkled freely
Everybody feels worthwhile
Everybody’s value is known
Not hidden under a bushel.
From crucifixion to resurrection
From start to finish of all creation
Everything is possible to God.
THE KINGDOM
FOR JULIE HILL The room is not self
The door is not self
The house is not self
The garden is not self
The town is not self
The nation is not self
The planet is not self
the solar system is not self
The galaxy is not self
The universe is not self
No words need be spoken
Like hippie tradition
But Julie was never a hippie
Should communion sweet
With people of the street
but Julie was never on the street
Her music both of voice and soul
Has helped make people whole
but Julie just needed her freedom I am not all I am meant to be
Most people are not all they’re meant to be
Creator is not self
Redeemer is not self
Sanctifier is not self
Mary Virgin is not self
Cherubim and Seraphim are not self
Angels and Archangels are not self
Citizens of heaven are not self
Popes and bishops are not self
Priests and nuns are not self
Monks and brothers are not self
The faithful are not self
FIONA
Everybody loves her
Not just likes her
everybody loves her.
She’s living proof
God loves us
From head to toe.
There should be more like her
I’m head over heels
She’s living proof - love rules
I am not all I am meant to be
Most people are not all they’re meant to be
He spits them vitriol full deserved
And turns instead to lowly fishermen
For whom his first full trust is reserved
And walks his lonely path amid the turmoil
Created by the author of controversy.
The leprous scabrous ones who crawled and begged
The crippled ones who craved for an embrace
Reversed by faith and by his healing hands
The trend to irreversible decay
DECISIONS
I cast my concerns
Into my mind’s forum
Letting possibilities
Vie for the honour of truth The outcasts they all flocked to him like lambs
The prostitutes and all the fiery damned
To listen to the counsel and command
That He would spread throughout a stricken land Same face
Different complexion
Same truth
different perception The noblemen returning to require of him
An eye for eye and even tooth for tooth
Were dealt with by forgiveness infinite
But they determined He be made to die Naming my boundaries
Considering outcomes
The resurrection of the most original
Authentic and indeed the most exceptional
Prince of Peace and even King of Kings
Unheard of throughout all experienced things
there’s always something new
In my mind’s forum
His kingdom both outlasting and transcending
His enemies and all his hard won friends
He has taken for his kingly birthright
The universe entire in his palm
BRIGHT EDEN THE UNEXPECTED MESSIAH
Bright Eden! Often longed for
Etched out in racial memories
The thought of you has driven many
Beyond their known horizons.
Born of a virgin’s womb in time untold
The loving Saviour’s life would hence unfold
Born in the Starlight Hotel
In muck and filth and degradation
A singular, eccentric moving star
Would indicate to kings just where He lay
Bright Eden! We can never see you
Unlike the stars unreachable
But we can only glimpse
Your pale reflection
Bright Eden! Many look for you
But find they cannot reach you
The ancient sages counsel us
To look for you within
Led by a lady in distress riding side-saddle
Fed by breasts that rightly should be dry
With husband just but father only proxy
Did not know He was destined to die
Bright Eden! Could it be that deep
Within this universal fabric
Lies a paradise of light?
Was the ancient counsel right?
Growing like a sapling in dry ground
Nazareth was not where princes could be found
Jerusalem was where He would expound
The hidden treasure that was his alone
Returning home to live in bland obscurity
Waiting in the wings to reach his destiny
Emerging from the desert in his prime
Baptised in water by the man of fire
Greater than the one he named the greatest
Ready to begin his public ministry
Younger than the youngest of the prophets
Older than the oldest patriarch
Identified to all by his co-equal
The Holy Spirit harbinger of truth
Accosted by some nobleman contemporaries
HIPPIES
Hippies are a noble race;
A people set apart
They have in their appearance
A model – Jesus Christ
They often work in service
Content to pass unseen
STREET MYSTIC
Anonymously
He weaves his way
Through crowded streets
And alley ways
Threading his way
Through the people.
The world has changed
Because of them
Vegie burgers, acupuncture
Greenpeace and disarmament
Society accepted them
And is repaid in kind
So everybody benefits
From the hippie mind Sensing stories
By intuition
Feeling the pain
Of disconnection.
Thirsty for life
And hungry for love
Will he receive it?
Our street mystic.
THE FORGOTTEN CHRIST THE REGARDED DEGRADED
I knew a place
Where the Degraded
Are regarded
With Love
The King of Kings and Lord of Lords
Has died a noble death
Obscure, bizarre and strange to some
He died a criminal’s death
One of them
Walks with a stick
Always spills his coffee
He’s the community’s aristocrat
Deserted now by multitudes
He goes His lonely way
He still gives life to multitudes
Today they pass Him by
Never asking how or why
Of He who lived to die Another always shows respect
His littleness is respected
Never pausing, undiscerning
They could have His life redeeming
They could have His love surpassing
They could have His life
Yet another gives out welcome
Makes sure he is welcomed
His fame it is assured
I know a place
Where the degraded
are regarded with love
ARROGANCE
JESUS CHRIST ALIVE & WELL
IN DARLINGHURST Arrogance is a crown of thorns
That rips our veils to shreds
Leaving crushed and broken bones
Crying out for love Travelling alone in Darlinghurst
Observing everything in Darlinghurst
Offering the purest love Arrogance could just disguise
A loving broken heart;
Arrogance could just be love
That failure tore apart Jesus Christ the friend of sinners in Darlinghurst
Speaking silently in Darlinghurst
Offering the purest love Arrogance needs gentleness
to rob it of its nervousness
To open up its woundedness
Receiving tenderness Jesus Christ unsung hero of Darlinghurst
Offering the purest love in Darlinghurst
Offering the purest love Arrogance must meet its God
And therefore must be humble
To know the everlasting love
To cause it not to stumble
THE INVISIBLE PRAYER SHAWL
It has to have its lunatic fringe
(Any excuse for praying!)
It wraps around its owner well
But nobody else can see it. A HIDDEN CHRIST My best of mates can’t even see:
But knows of its existence. There is a face of Christ
That few have seen
Who walks amongst
The dark, forgotten places
Who walks the timeless zones
And twilight hours
That seem to last forever in despair
Its remedy for idle time
The “noblest” excuse
is solace for a rebel soul
Who could not change the world.
THE JESUS CARAVAN He walks inside the hearts
Of those that live there
He sees and understands
The wounds they bear
He wants somebody else
To walk beside Him
He wants somebody else
To help Him care.
I follow the Jesus Caravan
Only a part of the carnival
Where jesters and jugglers and clowns
Where sceptics and sinners and saints
Where lepers and penitents leap for joy
Undercover of the caravan
I follow the Jesus Caravan
Wherever it may lead
The gospel water is sprinkled
On the Jesus Caravan
The birds of the air fly
Amongst the Jesus Caravan
You should be told
It never ends
I’ll see you if you’re there
THE UNIVERSAL CHURCH
From the humanist
To the agnostic
To the atheist
THE MUSTARD SEED From Buddhist
To the Hindu
To the Protestant The smallest seed becomes the biggest shrub
And all the birds of the air shelter therein From the Muslim
to the Jewish
To the Catholic Sparrows specially mentioned in scripture
Eagles descending from the heights
Magpies clothed in black and white
Mopokes disguise themselves from sight
“Catholic” means all embracing
Every person of good will
Is the universal church
Butcher birds can eat their own
Vultures clean up after
Kookaburras delight in laughter
Peewees lightly dance around RESURRECTION MEMORY
There was a man who is divine
Who offered immortal bread and wine
Who suffered and lowered himself to death
Defeating our worst enemy
The best of all is kept ‘til last
The peacock shows its beauty dancing
The bird of paradise dances too
The lyrebird shows its finery
Augmented by its mimicry He rose again, unseen, unheard
Until the women devoted
Brought the news that seemed absurd
“Our Master has resurrected” The smallest seed becomes the biggest shrub
And all the birds of the air shelter therein The men were disbelieving still
The shock of loss had left them ill
While doubting Thomas met Him and
Proved the resurrection real
CEREMONIES OF THE STREETS
A refugee from the middle class
Rummages through garbage bins
Can those who see be blind
To ceremonies of the streets? ICARUS’ MISTAKE
Food vans stop at appointed times
No one needs a watch
Not much need be said
In ceremonies of the streets.
Gambolling through Elysian Fields
Gambling for Jesus clothing
Underneath the Cross.
Salvation Army handout places
Demand ID or else
Nothing can be done
For ceremonies of the streets.
Newspaper, radio, television, film
Gambling for Jesus clothing
The stakes were never higher.
The street is treated with respect
Both enemy and friend
It speaks but not with words
Of ceremonies of the streets.
Icarus reads the news tonight
Gambling for Jesus clothing
The stakes are even higher.
Pay day comes and pay day goes
Today’s rejoicing, tomorrow’s woe,
We thought we were so lucky
Our ceremonies of the streets.
Where do the lies end?
Where does truth begin?
Gambling for Jesus clothing
Underneath the Cross. A few outposts to broken hearts
Embracing life with courage
The dance of God can sanctify
The ceremonies of the streets. Gambling for Jesus’ clothing
And those who can will join in the dance
There’s lots to say it seems
The dance of God has sanctified
The ceremonies of the streets
“SELFISH” LOVE
There is a kind of “selfish” love
That is not jealous, vain or proud
That seeks its own and not another’s
Is neither boastful, rude or loud DIRECTOR OF CIRCUMSTANCES
It’s willing (as all souls are equal)
To give the same back in return
It cannot tolerate deceit
And neither evil ways
I arrived that day
With sores on my feet
Unable to walk
It loves itself and therefore loves
Such love is in the will of God
There is a kind of “selfish” love
That some of us must learn
The kindest man
I ever met
Gave me Jesus
The scars I had
Healed long ago
But Jesus stayed
And gave me life
ETERNAL LOVE
Eternal love is on the streets
And always was
And always will be Jesus never went away
He opens doors for me
And taught my heart
So many things and became
My director of circumstances
No one seems to notice
eternal love is happy
Not to have a name
Working from behind the scenes
Letting others take the credit
Eternal Love does wonders
TERRITORY
NICE TERMINOLOGY Some people’s territory
Is won by the strong
“Marginalised” is nice terminology
For an ever present guilty feeling
That no one wants you
No one needs you
On one loves you
While other territories
Are neither right nor wrong
But the real territory
Is fought within
the ancient struggle
Of decay and growth “Marginalised” is nice terminology
For well meaning hard workers
Who, hiding safe behind the scenes
Help as best they can
Is fought by the humble
On behalf of the meek
It’s eternal beauty
That’s kept in store “Marginalised” is nice terminology
For the fate of loved ones
Who can only stand watching
It’s eternal beauty
Forevermore
“Marginalised” is nice terminology
When enough is never enough
“Marginalised” is nice terminology”
THE STRUGGLE
UNDERDOG Any aberration that comes along
Any anxious desire to help…
To love yourself through it all
To love your neighbour as yourself… His Spirit driven underground
His body on the street
He’s looking for a leader. The struggle, the struggle, the struggle.
Oblivion may be pleasure
When truth is too much to bear
Somehow makes it easy to care…
Simplicity his motto
No easy act to follow
Invisible in crowds.
Keep up the struggle, the struggle, the struggle.
A pittance is his fortune
He shops the cheap and nasty
his clothing is in rags.
‘Cause you must if you want to survive
somehow you must stay alive…
For the struggle, the struggle, the struggle.
A candle lit by providence
Will find him underground. Anything to cling on to hope
The struggle, the struggle, the struggle.
Lady Poverty can guide him
To willingly embrace his lot.
True invisible underdog.
FAILURES EXPRESS
They never knew how good they were
But one by one
They climbed aboard
The Failures Express SELFISHNESS
Their destination paradise
Their fare the widows mite
To ride the Failures Express I saw a soul grown cold
From selfishness of soul
That dared by height of pride
To set his brother free They saw life from the outside
They rode the Failures Express
They rode the Failures Express But vain attempt and futile
Torn velvet glove on iron claw
That fed the lifeless demon maw
Of wanton, wanton, want GOD BLESS
What is a hubcap to a wheel
That soul to its creator
Refashioned into armour
May fruitfulness now spring.
God bless the nooks and crannies
That wander through our days
God bless the meek and lowly
God bless our mother earth
God bless the lonely
God bless the sad
God bless the afraid
God bless the bad
For hubcaps cannot roll alone
And have no hand to cling
If good must come from evil
Time and time again.
God bless the simple
God bless the wise
God bless the yeast
That makes us rise.
THE TRANSCENDENTAL OUTLAW (for Bob Dylan)
A STREET SPIRITUALITY
Wisdom calls silently through the streets
She mingles secretly among all
Gathering friends whether great or small
Seeking to be giving life
A person with no motive
A person with no method
A one who did no crime
A one who did the time
If you are deaf, she still pursues
If you are blind, to make you see
If you are lost to set you free
If you are kind to teach integrity
A one without an alibi
A one without excuse
A one who only tried
To be of earthly use
If you have problems she can help
If you’re confused she clarifies
If you’re seeking you shall find
She gives new sight to the blind
A one who loved when hated
Whose love was unabated
The transcendental outlaw
Who lived above the law
Wisdom guides while you have breath
Wisdom lives beyond your death
No better friend could someone have
No better way could someone live.
To live above the law you must be honest
A great man said it and I must agree
Intelligence and innocence his weapons
To fight the face of dark hypocrisy.
SCARS
Scars of body and scars of mind
Are just as painful, either kind
scars of body and scars of mind
Can last a lifetime, either kind
Scars of body and scars of mind
Can heal with time, either kind
Scars of body and scars of mind
Will heal with death, either kind.
BEGGAR MAN CHURCH
I muse upon a different way to die
The beggar plays with such a niggard hand
To reach the table set beyond command
SOLUTIONS
I am driven and drawn
To search for answers. Who is this beggar? Can we know his face?
Appointed as we are in our right place?
The wedding gown; the so familiar pace
That quickens in the blood excitement chaste
Allegiance and all homage to the race
That God Himself has called eternal saints
Prayer, logic intuition
Chase across my skyscape
And the ringing in my ears
Never stops. I muse upon a different way to die
And wait till Christ shall bring eternal day Caught up in the mystery
Searching for integrity
Sometimes disappointed
Sometimes there.
RAILWAY MYSTIC STREET MEDITATION
My train stops
Doors open for me
It is empty
“Fifteen jugglers
Five believers
All dressed in red.” …the aristocrat of absurdity speaks…quoted by gentlemen…one is
“sane”…the other is “insane”…insanity is entertainment…the metal hel-
meted army freak…he’s appalled at war…he relies on God for money…
God provides…the authority freak commands me…I don’t fight…he does…
please Jesus suffer us both…we both know to come to you…the godfather is
tattooed on his neck…”King of Kings” on one side…”Lord of Lords” on
the other …his neck is offered in trust…he’s built like a wrestler…he’s as
meek as the lamb of God…how come some people get scared of me…my
appearance…my manner…I hope they don’t need to be scared…the next
time could be any place…I’m time after time reminded... the inner self is
what they seek…who decides the next play?…there is so much play…”
straights” come to teach the rest…they learnt as much as they taught… or
even much more…rich and poor believe and receive…the spirit of sharing
takes care of the rest…interaction…providence…virtue…losers are wel-
come…birthday cards and candles celebrate…better to light a candle than
curse the darkness…may the light survive forever… relationships celebrate
who we are…a spirit green as grass…always green as pasture…always
greener on the other side…always green on both sides…there are no fences
here…
“I had to rearrange
their faces and give
them another name”
Shooting forward
cutting through darkness
Locked on the straight and narrow
Wheels spinning
My soul emptying
to fill the surrounds with love
MANIC DEPRESSION
Throwaway scraps of conversation
Newspaper words fill my head
But it’s not these words I depend on for life
But rather the thoughts they feed
These thoughts are not throwaway
Rather then run away
And I follow
Soaring in an abstract paper chase
Until I spot the chasm below
And I plummet
Recognise my gravity
Begin the search for levity
WHERE JUSTICE SPEAKS (for the war on terror)
IN MEMORIUM ST. FRANCIS
I dreamed I saw St. Francis
Dance like sunlight in the trees
I dreamed I saw St. Francis
Kiss the leper and hug the wolf
God bless the places justice seeks
But most of all not vengeance
God bless the needs that justice has
To bless a thirsting world.
I dreamed of some who love St. Francis
Who would never kiss the leper
Who would never hug the wolf
God bless our waiting wanting world
Who seeking its redemption
As justice seeks out ways to help
As mercy shows the way. I dreamed I saw St. Francis
Cry like rain from Sister Sky As mercy shows the way to justice
Honest ones respond
God bless the needs that mercy has
For justice not for vengeance.
I dreamed I hugged St. Francis
REVOLUTION SONNET MY POVERTY
There are many things in life
That were never meant to be
That live among the jungle
Of our society
Poverty my friend
Poverty my teacher
Poverty my discipline
Poverty my benefactor The best of us can’t fake it
While some of us will make it
the worst of us can’t take it
We tread them down
Providence’s sword
Separates need from want
Providence meets my every need
But only some of my wants The world just isn’t ready
for the prophet
The world just isn’t ready
For the truth
And will kill the
Freedom fighters nail and truth
Poverty is earthy
Providence is supernatural
May poverty around the world
Be met by the supernatural
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