The end

 

Why so rude?

Because a pinnacle has been reached

It doesn’t matter what others think

Others don’t care

So others shouldn’t feel obligated either

Oh, but they do care

So I’m told

Oh, I get it

They are now

Now that honesty has entered the sanctuary

And clarity the conversation

Direct, principled, and prepared with zero bullshit

With a side of loyalty to those hate horseshit, too

The end

Prey for piece

 

Convoys arrive and restrictions quickly depart 

Liberties and ringleaders are quickly arrested 

Ministers seize powers and opposition is quickly silenced 

Gifts and earnings are devoured after the first freeze

Then comes the media hush

Then comes the partisan retreat 

Then powers suddenly go back to normal

Who still remembers how this game is played? 

Those who lose will be left behind 

To fend for themselves or starve

Then comes the ultimate junk food

Hot fries with cheese curds and gravy to the rescue 

Of those behind the silence and starvation

Behind the powers masking the science

When poutine invades every living room 

Everyone will draw six feet closer

So that biosecurity basics can sneak in

Making everyone watching happy

Then the muskrat will enter into the great narrative 

Its omnivorous diet will devour world markets

And prevent harm caused by poutine

But the muskrat must be summoned first

And he only responds to one call

The delectable chirp of a desperate bird 

In need of salvation from God

Only this rodent can link stars above 

And save what is left of our souls

Elongating and damning us all

The next meal to be served 

Is planned at a table 

With nice, cushy seats that recline

Entrées and hors d’oeuvres 

Are played out in pieces

On this grand chessboard 

They all designed

As you were

 

It’s okay to not like me or my choice verbiage like Popeye with spinach. It’s okay to drag my reputation through your refuse. I anticipate at least that much, and I don’t give a shit. Besides, no one is thinking of me, especially when they find offense with something about me. All are enamored by their own conceits and how much better the world would be if they were gods; except many don’t even know what that means, or why i’d say so, and that’s okay, too. After refrigeration and electrification became the norm, many also never had to eat their spinach as kids, or else. Just continue as you were. It’s really okay. Be critical, if that's what you want. You don’t have to love me. You can also try to shame me however you wish. Just learn one thing about me and don’t ever forget it. I’ll go down to the grave loving my enemies and hating God’s. 

John 14.6

I can’t make up my mind

but maybe I’m never supposed to

or maybe I’m always supposed to

but none of the choices are good

or all of the facts are distorted

or all people except me are confusing

or it’s just not worth the effort

In the end, what do I know?

Then I heard a murmur of living water

welling up and whispering within me

Come to the Father

Without Hope

 

A terminal generation 

Doesn’t need the gospel

We preach

It needs hope lost

Houses divided

Loyalty tested

Accounts frozen

Kids hospitalized

Rights revoked

Time wasted

Zeal quenched

Energy drained

Livelihoods wrecked

Faces masked

Creeds challenged

Body and blood spilled

Eschatology realized

They already rejected

Fake Tips

 

I have the answer to your problems.

What problems? 

The problems between you and that crotchety old man and his bruised canine with a hair-bun and basketball. 

Here’s the answer: Practice the virtues. And pray about it. Then God will respond favorably. 

Then the Word of the Lord came to Yehonatan, saying: 'Tell this idiot plainly: Go tell that to them. They’re the ones who need My favor.’

Blackface

After years of searching

I learned that most people are pretending

Pretending to be healthy

Pretending to be reasonable

When a nine year old boy slaps another kid in the face

I’m supposed to believe that’s not normal

When a carpenter drives a six inch screw through a wall

I’m supposed to believe all rebukes must be gentle 

When every adult must suddenly refrain from four letter words around kids

I’m supposed to believe that Christian taboos foster holiness

When Jesus spits in a blind man’s eyes and we’re told that’s because his mouth was full of bread

I’m supposed to not call that ridiculous, cartoonish exegesis

I’m supposed to pretend everything’s normal and reasonable

I’m supposed to bow down to everyone’s idols

It’s when others react harshly over harshness

Then I stop pretending to be right

Desert World

 

This must be our time in the desert, says the doc with primary care for his high-on-pepsi, radiation addicted, aluminum salted retards.

A more realistic solution to our problems would be this: Clear and direct communication, and actually saying something that needs to be said when it needs to be said (before it's too late).

If others are not willing to at least do that much, they should be the last to offer spiritual direction.

Enough tiptoeing around obvious lunacy. Be a goddamn man or physician for once, instead of a dutiful lapdog of the establishment. 

Hopium

 

Like warriors in a garden, people actually imagine    They have the power        All the power in the production of idols to venerate        The we of the people even imagines history on their side        But the ones who script the archives are financed by the threes in degrees who win the wars        And they are everywhere        Around the dial of the sun    Building empires    Demolishing towers    Marketing    Wrecking fair play    Burning cities    Martialing law and losing battles                                Yet still winning the wars

We know they actually have the power    And the resources    And the discretionary time    Because we know they authorize and strategize and incentivize and subsidize    The wars    And because the we don’t know shit about finance or war    Because the we pay them to grant rights endowed by their creators, sustainers, and stakeholders        With that investment they microwave and slap QR codes on us like frozen lasagnas because they know we will come back for more        The average Joe, the telegrams    Streamed live with convoys of hopium    Pretends the we is us and the we will succeed 

Like cake with Gloria Gaynor    the we think they'll survive because the we have finally mustered up public courage        But we still have not changed their locks or made their abusive uncle leave his keys    because the law is enough protection        We have rights enshrined and codified in great historical charters    granted by ancestral apes and big banging deities                        and empires of thought

So I dare to play the prophet        Peaceful protesting will not stop this mighty factory    Reset because that button was pushed years ago        Like and share a million times        It won’t make a difference    Because the we and the us pretend to be green hornets        We are more like gardeners in wars than warriors in gardens        Blessed are the slaves on this blue marble of plantations

Little do Hollywood fanboys realize the stage was set    long ago    and that is how empires grow        What they grant they can take away    and they know it        The only person they can't control                                Is God

The Fragile

She lightens up an age of ugliness

Giggling, bubbling with pretentiousness

Ambitious when everyone's relaxed

Lacks ambition round those driven best 

To matter most among the meaningless 

I will let you fall apart

I will let you fall apart

I will let you fall apart

I will let you fall apart

Fragile, she imagines innocence 

She stays silent, target fixated

Two paths cross and she loses it

Perukes can’t hide bald insecurities 

I will let you fall apart

I will let you fall apart

I will let you fall apart

I will let you fall apart

There is no place to hide, but she tries

To build a wall to keep others off her side

I will let you fall apart

I will let you fall apart

I will let you fall apart

I will let you fall apart

There was no examination of self

I will let you fall apart

Only love on the spectrum with walls

I will let you fall apart 

Of estrangement easily built up

I will let you fall apart 

I was there too

I will let you fall apart 

Before I sobered up 

I will let you fall apart 

I was like you 

I will let you fall apart 

Grizzly Man

 

That scream

That crying

That whining and handshaking

That lying 

That intemperance

That tantrum

At that age

It poured out like a tipped over glass of wine

Then the sensitivity bled through the tablecloth

Of coddling

Of constancy

Of hubris

Of emotion

Of worry

At that age

Momma bear suddenly postured at perceived predators

Pretending her cub needed protection from pestering

Papa bear suddenly became ready, too

Ready to protect and defend and pounce if need be

So I pressed the power button and shut it all down

Taking in all the blame

I bulshitted my way quickly over to the end-table with the remote

I pushed the red button at the top of the plastic thingamabob with batteries inside

I pressed firmly and quickly to make the drama go away

These people are used to constant commercials anyway

See all this nonsensical reaction and worry?

See mama bear all fuckin mad and don't know why?

Did you hear that grizzly’s potty-mouth, too?

Did you see that cub on the spectrum turn around and freak the fuck out like a god damned lying banshee? 

I did, and so did the grizzly man’s cubs

But now that was all my fault

And it needed to become that way

No one else was mentally stable enough to feel the truth in their bones

They all needed distracting ads and entertainments instead 

So I pointed their attention away from the HDTV and directly toward the grizzly man invading their theme park

I volunteered to be the victim

Then they could feel whatever needed feeling and calm the fuck down

Needless to say, I don’t camp out in Bear Country anymore