Showing posts with label Poetria. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetria. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 23, 2021

Inception


Planting a seed

Takes time

The right light and warmth

And moisture

At fingertips

With you

It's worth every minute

Of waiting and tasting

Every pulse

Every wave

Quietly announcing

We found divinity






Slame


You are the mirror of my worst

Show me what I look like, to your face

But once we face each other

I can’t fight you, for you

You’ll need to slice knuckles on glass to get to me

And prove that dead men do bleed after all

Once there is blood

You’ll bleed the most

If you refuse to heal

If you retreat into solitariness with your angst and shame

Instead of meeting together in our tears






Breakfast at Wendy's

 


I was born into this womb of a world

And kept alive by a wannabe doctor

That’s the best I can say

About one's contribution

Fed from the pulpit

One Sunday at a time

I wasn’t fed poison or medicine

It was more like chips and soda for breakfast

And microwaved lasagna and fruit punch for dinner

Without blushing or sarcasm

It's what the doctor ordered






Thursday, March 18, 2021

Save me

 


Most holy Lady, mother of mine

My soul fills with sorrows

I want to say something good

Because there is good to be spoken

But good necessitates beauty


And every time we talk or text

Or meet in person

He’s predictably awkward and ugly

I could say that to his face

But he can’t see the good in it


What else could I say?

To his face, I could cry

Saying he never has changed

He has never listened

He has never learned


Although he’s intelligent

And has ears that hear

He uses both to posture peculiarly

Sometimes politely, to not appear so strange

Most times, to be the expert in conversation


Far less, though, to sit in the seat of the scornful

That would be good to say

But he can’t receive it favorably

As the wounds of a friend

It’s just another wounding


An opportunity for imprecation

Like Saul clutching the spear

He’s tough and fearless as a lion

And fierce in battle as the unicorn

Yet tired of battling within his home


For respect and guidance

For trust and honor

What now can be done now that he is exposed?

You tried to honor him

But he would not listen


You pleaded obsessively for him to learn

But he never could imprecate himself

And this time he can’t silence you

Your voice has gone out into all the world

Crying in a wilderness of error


Will there be change from now on?

I cry out to you, O Physician

I acknowledge your works of wonders for the dead

She describes your mercy in the grave

And your truth in destruction


Intercede for us sinners

Our souls draw near to Hades

Do not forsake us sinners

O God, forgive us our sins

And have mercy on us.









Wednesday, March 17, 2021

Thank me later

 


Many think I’m crazy

Am I really?

I merely record moments

and paint punctiliar seasons

like the tree I see here and there,

the one planted along channels of water.

What I feel, I bleed out,

scratched onto thin slices of its innards:

Pain, trouble,

confusion, certainty,

embodied and at peace

in mystery and glorious favor.

There’s more to life than facts and physics,

making math reality.

My systematics are securely obscure,

like millions of pounds of rain,

floating above a desert

and I don’t care when it drops a tear,

or if it ever does

because the dead are raised,

the impious destroyed,

the living reign with us

into the ages of ages;

and there is not a God damn thing anyone can do to change that.










Saturday, March 13, 2021

—S-E-L-F-C-O-N-T-R-O-L—

 

 


I’m working on it

Nibbles of taste buds at a time

don’t seem to be as effective

as jawbones lopping off lengua

and knitting it back together

with toothpicks


Bite your tongue, they say.

I have, many times. 

See this stitch?

And this one, ad infinitum?

If you pick these sutures apart

I bleed, too.


And so would she.

That’s why I wear the beads of her hands

of gold and white,

elasticated and easy to snap,

suffocating my skin every day.

We actually feel pain, you know.





Tuesday, February 23, 2021

Let's make peace
































It’s so simple what I ask for ….

Admit you grumble and complain

About that destructive lamb

that bleats incessantly


Standing in the corner

plugging his ears

Promise me you won’t 

do that around me


Although you made clear 

many times

That won’t be a problem

Admit you knew I wanted 

to play that role


And you overstepped your role 

in this team effort

You took the project over 

and pushed me away


Admit that you knew 

it was my role 

to reformat the prayers

Even though

You still have not 

prevented me at all

from doing so


And that really hurts my feelings 

because I really wanted to do that

Apologize and let me know 

you trust my leadership

that I don’t have 

which I imagine I do


Let me know you will follow 

my leadership

Can you do this 

unreasonable, irrational 

demand of mine?


I can’t be part of your rivalry 

with that strangled cat in the corner

Nor can I work with someone 

who does not respect my leadership

which is entirely illusory 


Can you understand that?

I’m the reasonable one; 

I’m the pious one, the lowest of all, 

with visions of perfect prayer


Your actions which I won't specify

in this chimera of mine 

Toward that pathetic creature and me 

are so hurtful to me


I cry benedictine tears 

of penthos

and you don’t care

Even though you’ve been very clear 

about caring justly 

and thinking clearly


To not think less of one's self

but to think rightly of one's self 

as true humility

This is not a healthy relationship 

We can make peace

It’s easy: let’s make peace



Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, 

now and always, and forever and ever. Amen. 


Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Glory to you, O God.

Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Glory to you, O God.

Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Glory to you, O God.


Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. 


Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, 

now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.










Sunday, February 21, 2021

Thanatography

 


I wear this mask

For my mom

Whose fear of germs explains everyone else’s today.


I stay at home 

In solidarity with this terminal generation

That is truly sick and needs the support


I wash my hands

For my neighbors

Who rub their eyes and touch everything in isle nine as I do


I stay six feet away

For small businesses

That welcome slitting each other's wrists


My family won’t be getting the shot any time soon

Others deserve it far more than we do

It would sicken us, and we would be forever changed, if it were any other way


Most importantly, we order take out

For family and friends to be safe from pathogens

And to slow the spread of this virus


Just kidding

We never order take out

We regularly go to the restaurants that don’t harass us for not wearing masks








Thursday, February 11, 2021

The Crucified



O God, my God, why have I forsaken you? 

Far away from blissfulness are my entertainments! 

O Most High, I cry for days and you will not listen! 

I roar beyond moonlight, waxing and waning

Yet, still, my addictions tarry

Do you dwell in foolish ones—in their praise?

Our father hoped in you, and was not blissful

Toward you he cried and was heard

He was heard, and was still put to shame

And I—I, too, am a dumb animal

A beast of the field and vagabond

I aspire to carry the torch of our heritage

Yet all those who view my profile deride me

They mute my feed

They snope each fact and report missing context

“This guy needs help.”

“He denies Science.”

“Let his god save him, because he can’t be reasoned with.”

Because you are the one who graced me with instruction

You are the one who infused me with theories of conspiration

Upon you my work ethic was baptized

Out of your bride my spirit of laissez fair was birthed

Please do not draw near to me, because I have no profit to offer

They troll my accounts like flies—hundreds of them

Like GM Mosquitoes, they prevent offspring from surviving

I was shut up like a mason jar

Poured out like the cold residuum of a french press

My soul is pierced

My cells, poisoned

All hope, lost

I laid this corpse of yours down into dust

To watch more television

To stream more social media

To remain relevant and informed

Until our final judgment