Sunday, March 27, 2022

Twelve hours


Over the valley and through the woods

A half day was spent seated, motionless

Then we arrived

And a curious young man

Locked the only door 

From the inside out

To the only room

To pay our water bill

To dump out our trash


After the handle was removed

From the outside

One might think

Disparagement would be unnecessary

But that door doesn’t swing both ways

If you plant corn

Don’t expect strawberries to grow

Humiliation is what precedes exaltation

Stupid decisions just delay that process










Holy resurrection

 




The spirits howl this morning

ready for worship — ready for war


I can hear them wanting to break glass

wanting to push through and invade


But these walls

built upon the foundation of martyrs


mortared with the hymns of holy ones

won’t let them


Its breath continues to hover and push back

Its black emblazoned stones cry out


Have mercy on us

and on the whole world










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













Tuesday, March 1, 2022

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











Monday, February 28, 2022

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. 










Friday, February 25, 2022

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