Chattel

 

I was born a slave

Raised on microwaved lasagna

and Boston chicken

Sprayed in the face with lysol

All of my feelings ignored

I existed to glorify God 

and enjoy Him forever

if He chose me for everlasting bliss

instead of unending fire

Day after day

I was given schoolwork

I was handed chores

I was screamed at

Spit on

Beaten with wood paddles

and plastic paint stirring sticks

by cult leaders

I was forced to mow large lawns

with extension cords

and no pay

Waking up early each day

I was forced to sit in classrooms with bigots and pricks

I had few friends

and no one cared

I became sheltered, stuck at home

day after day

night after night

When I grew up I was given a real job

to caddy for wealthy people

swinging clubs at tiny balls

I would often leave my post 

and steal porn from Waldenbooks

When I buffed floors and cleaned urinals

I'd steal Newports from custodians

and smoke weed and pop pills during third shift

I ate cid and psilocybin to escape the pain

I moshed and raved to vent my rage

I drank and fucked around to indulge the passions

I lived paycheck to paycheck

eating junk food religiously

to chrismate what could not satiate

Everywhere I went I was sold shit

Shit to work for

Shit to shop for

Shit to live for

Shit everywhere that could not escape

without dying

Then one day I decided to end my life

and pull the trigger

and repent

of my slavery

to my childishness

to my laziness

to my virtue signaling 

to my hypocrisy

to my lusts

to my dishonesty

to my resentment

to my indifference

to my ignorance

to my immorality

to my foolishness

to my addictions

and accept my slavery

under a new Master

as a doorkeeper

in the house of my God

Paraklysis

 

I know you’re spying over me.

A little here; a little there, like a fly

that keeps showing up

in the car three hours away,

at mass while little bells ring,

and at poolside while typing.

I see your wings in each pass.

So I thought nothing of how I lost 

two hundred plus paper cutlets

after pulling out one thin slice 

to place in the fishing basket. 

I just figured you knew better than I

about distributing to those here in need

Past Tents

 

                                                I love you

                                    I wish the world loved you

                                        when love had liberty 

    to care for the sick, the suffering, and those held captive by it

                                            I wish your husband loved you

    when love vowed before its creator 

    

to endure in sickness and health, and even through death

I wish I loved you, too

when love had arms

           

             to wrap around and squeeze

                            even with empty arms

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