Thursday, April 29, 2021

Holywood

 


While crafting images of God

Into dysphoric xems and perselfs

Less archaic than thees and thous

We guzzle these natural flavors that plants crave

Meanwhile our priests fly cartoon robots

Telling us with confidence to imagine

We will be pumping our chests with oxygen

And our blood brain barrier with propylene glycol

So our grandchildren can visit 

Jetsonian vistas powered by Tesla panels

Once the hyperdrive is ready to project quantum particles

Amazon will be at the helm to deliver our goods

This new era has dawned with greater understanding

Black holes waiting to be colonized

So we can be like the stars of heaven











Wednesday, April 14, 2021

That Rare Icon


I remember the first time I met her

Glowing with life

Truly listening and passionate

About God’s glory

About God’s beauty

About God’s worth-ship


As months passed by, much more about her became evident

She is superlatively gifted and competent

Willing to sacrifice her time and money

Her energy and imagination

Her art and attention

Her love of Goodness for all


As years passed by, her servant heart was evident

Showering others with encouragement

Ennobling them with her ready ear

Her ready mind

Her ready heart

Her ready soul

Full of joy

Coupled with humbleness

Forthright in word and deed, yet with brutal honesty about her own mistakes and shortcomings


It’s rare to find someone like her:

Loving and caring beyond mere words, without hypocrisy, 

Yet also with healthy boundaries and a good sense for justice;

One who is tender-hearted and long suffering, with no strings attached, 

Yet still filled with tremendous Hope through tremendous losses


I have spoken about her with many others, and we all agree: 

She is a great friend, confidant, and counselor; 

the excellent and virtuous woman described in Proverbs; 

the joy of many who sorrow.

She is that rare icon one is graced to pray with, 

because knowing her is knowing Life Eternal








Sunday, April 11, 2021

And profitable writing

 

Here we go again

Another apologetic

Whipping out shiny blades of tribal tradition 

To chop up uncertainty 

If the other won’t surrender

To the good news that his steel glistens

And is sharper than any two-edged sword

Then comes the twirly dance like a ninja ballerina

To show how conversant he is in his own culture

The point is to bedazzle

So the weapons of his warfare don’t actually get soiled

So then, be afraid boys and girls 

As the professional armchair samurais protect the clan

Don’t try this at home, the disclaimer reads

Carved into the thick air

These bad boys can pierce through soul and spirit

So beware


I then slowly withdraw my first defense

Reading loudly 

πσα γραφ θεόπνευστος κα φέλιμος πρς διδασκαλίαν, 

πρς λεγμόν, πρς πανόρθωσιν, 

πρς παιδείαν τν ν δικαιοσύν

να ρτιος το θεο νθρωπος, 

πρς πν ργον γαθν ξηρτισμένος


Everyone stares in silence 

Because they can’t see the mountain

Full of chariots of fire all around

And they don't even know what that means










Friday, March 26, 2021

Authentic misery

 


It happened.

I asked. Then silence

For an awkward sixty

Three seconds. So I mentioned 

Resources available.

Then insecurity burst out,

Like a wizard who never cast

The right spell even though

He wrote the book.

So I clarified.

They’re online, I said.

The resources. They’re new.

That’s why they were produced.

Then, awkward whispers ensued,

And after another uncomfortable 

Minute, one excuse poured out

Beyond the softened, airy mumbles

Of buried shame painted as stability.

Our situation is complicated, he said.

Yes, you’re right, I said.

And I won’t be surprised 

If you recoil and shrink

Into isolation, where there is no

Vulnerability, which helps you remain

Unwilling to learn how we can help.








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