Walking children into heaven

Walk with me, you say

Every mile is worth revisiting

Twenty years of life now gone

But I am with you

That note under the front cover was for you

All the poems and dreams

Splashed across pages, were for you too

Even to the completion of the age

Tonsured for Christ

 

In the midst of the congregation the praise of Christ is hymned because of you, O Reader Joseph. Through your life at the kliros, the humble path to exaltation is made manifest, illumined with the transcendent beauty of angelic melodies. By your constancy and loyalty, standing in praise and prayer, the way of salvation is guided and guarded for us. In keeping vigils, you brightened the path leading to our unending joy. Therefore we celebrate your light-giving and holy memory, and we cry aloud in one accord: Intercede with Christ our God that our feet would be made to stand dutifully in all divine allotments of service, with our hearts stationed on Him within the Great Congregation of ineffable praises, so that we, too, would be kept from straying onto evil paths and all attain the unity of faith and the knowledge of God’s unapproachable glory. 

Proselyte

 

I collect data which simpletons call facts 

I make observations blinded by traditions

I pose questions about questions that deflect

I develop arguments uncomfortable to mine

I offer suggestions others call speculations 

I have no evangelistic spirit

No mission below

No great commission from above

To advise others

To believe or not

Or even what to believe

As long as one believes 

That belief is faith in trust that’s loyal

To the faith entrusted to those who believe

My humor is dry 

I’m also not an enthusiastic tribalist

Geeked-out in defense of absolute truth

Nor am I a belligerent book burner

Or full-fledged misanthrope

I’m just heterodoxically dull

I neither assail Temple Mounts

Nor man apologetical barricades

I’m content 

As an embedded intelligencer

Offering provisional judgments 

Of guilded dogmas

Hoping to raise issues 

Others might find worthwhile pursuing 

You have been forewarned

You, with materialistic epistocracy 

You, with dogmatic goggles of ideology

You, with your reductionistic bag 

Of tricks, anomalies and absurdities

Explanations for every thing and why

All you who begin to listen to alternatives 

Will conclude with the same 

Commitments held before 

Multiple limitations will become excuses

Emotions will rule in moments of disagreement

Your adversary must be aloof 

To religious sensitivities

Historical complexities

Philosophical densities

Or theological tectonicities

Because you don’t actually long for the truth 

In the way a drowning man struggles 

For a breath of continued being

You’ll remain like those on powdered sugar

Beaches of sunny panhandles 

What you really want is a way to escape 

Yet remain comfortable and safe

Synonyms for justification

Of what you already trust

Oh, Rapunzel

have you ever wondered

about how predictable you are

you, over there with hoary mane

yes, you

The one all about grace, love, and mercy

grace like the carrot of a loving noose

dangling mercifully 

before the countenance of Rapunzel

showing willingness 

to forgive in order to love someone

gracious and merciful who loves someone

you hate

hate is such a strong word

         I suppose

despise is much more humble

and honest

instead of humble honesty

you prefer tender and winsome confabulation

like a box of disposable word masks

willing and ready to protect the mealy mouthed 

from what you think God frowns upon

but wills anyway, mysteriously 

like this glorious buffet of word soup

garnishing dislikes and disappointments

instead of humble honesty

that reminds me

I forgot to apologize

for your misunderstandings

slanders, idiotic assumptions, emotional abuse

and crisis of faith caused allegedly by yours truly

please accept this apology 

in its classical sense

pretty please with fluffy niceties 

and a gumdrop on top

your acceptance of my defense would be sweet

American Psychosis

 

You missed again. This time

It wasn’t just the sting

Of shrapnel or the chips of stone

Ricocheting off the ground

Of intentional, merciful 

Misfire. Or even the striking burst

That shocks others into fright

And flight. This time it was an organ

Pierced because he stands behind her 

Still while you apologize and gush

Of your beloved’s love for you

And your unconditional love 

For your beloved who loves another

Planet Earth

 

‘There is literally no evidence of that’

Says the random troll with an opinion

Weighing as much as a fish in the ocean 

And as oblivious as a newborn seal

All the crazies are in the wild

And they have no interest in subscribing

They only think they are healthy and safe

Because of all the freedoms and privilege they’ve had

The trolls only know all four seasons of planet earth

Framed through a lens; encapsulated by glass

Guarded with steel; shaped in concrete

Its keepers are there to make sure each season is a success

All the crystalloid, chlorinated pools 

And buckets of delectable fish

Are crafted to make endangered life safe and healthy

To the senses of visitors who never enter the wild

Each generation is being sold a new series

Scripted, strategized, and produced

To keep our eyes on the prize of life

The wild is really not our natural habitat 

How will we survive without buckets of care?

We need them to help rehabilitate planet earth

All we have, the world and everything therein, is theirs

And they know better than us in how to care for it

Also, do you see this button?

If it gets pushed, the guardians and keepers will come

And show you where you can squat and what food you can chew

And the glass you can see through because the planet is their zoo

But the choice is entirely yours

Learn to live by their rules and be a good pup

Playing freely and feeding from their hands

Or else die by their rules and their servants will clean up

That Phone Call

I know a man who plays with his children

The games they like to play

Just to enjoy them and be enjoyed by them

But he’s not you

He made that choice

While his kids were young, too

It’s too late for you now

Only the law is left to comfort you

Honor thy father has remained your excuse

The Most High commands and imposes this duty on us

Do this no matter what

Do this little children and you will be blessed

You, whose children are now parents themselves

Do this so that senile and cynical fathers are cared for

Do this because your father is honorable

Don’t bother if he’s a narcissist

Threaten him if he’s a cult leader

And maybe

Just maybe, at best

He’ll read what you wrote for him to enjoy with you years ago

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

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.

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.