Category Archives: Poetry

My poetry. Mostly Collects

Levers

The metrics show a decrease in privilege
despite more attention being paid
to differences incenting niceness.

Uncomfortable work reversing trends 
of excellence in response to being
screwed fails once again.

Victims of the same pedagogical
systems which teach downward
mobility remain enthralled.

We kid ourselves by filling our garages
with used mattresses thinking
Jefferson's meritocracy has arrived.

Great thoughts remain small behind
curtains while little men control
the levers of work and play.

Fools…

...Suggest that tradition must be respected at all times.  
...Campaign endlessly for stewardship of the heart.
...Believe evening walks should only go around the block.
...Take out the garbage in every letter written.
...Cry, There are so many adversaries.
...Walk past the gravestones of the blessed souls.
...Reckon hope to be only a prologue to the day.
...Recklessly hoard prosperity for sunny days.
...Propose sole purposes for existence.
...Hold shares to profit from created misery.
...See no excellence in the idea of diversity.
...Create victims of downward-pushing systems.
...Rejoice in days where nothing happens.

Seeing each other for the first time:

An incredible encounter of tingling minds,
inspiring both to move beyond flirtatious
eye-play to a deep place of wanting to know
and to be known.

Distance and separation between events
during this time drive despair of not being
physically close away as fear of severing
any relationship dissipates.

Initiative to share the same experience rests
on the intensity of always returning together
again from being lost to the other as great
events happen during evenings.

Palm Sunday

How many more calculations must be made
to be free of belief in miracles when sunlight
falls with such graceful abandon?  Lip-biting 
onlookers have not awakened to shout their 
derisions to fools who still remain lost 
in the dregs of bad vodka.  Scolding mothers 
have not found anything to pray upon.  
Wonders wander around centers of being
long forgotten.  A daughter cries for attention 
in the loneliest corner.  Dry compassion 
waits for those less well-fed.  A donkey-rider
enters the city claiming to possess the secret
of being in relationship with God and neighbor.

Inspiration Flirts

I cried.  "I'm a vampire.  What 
do I do?"

She asked, "Will they not say
that you are out of your mind?"

"Yes!  And I am mindful 
in this state that Christ 
has no body here but ours."

She smirked.  "It is not a test
of faith to give in to your
resistance to jump because
you are afraid."

Looking into the far future,
I said, "The pattern of my dreams
finally made itself known last night."

She reached out for my hand 
and said, "Incredible mind-tingling
inspiration always flirts with events
that are shared during this time."

Many people spread their cloaks on the road… Mark 11:8

Giver of all things, places
times and happenings,
who dares to challenge
the princes of power by
riding a donkey through 
the holy gates of life
controlled by the few,
give us all rainbow-
colored coats and
cloaks with floral prints
so the fields of roads
blossom with flowers
underneath your last ride.
Amen.

Spring Reminders

Spring flowers do not fear stepping out;
unfolding to include all of the arrayed light.
Yes, it is okay to extend the covenant of living
to reach folks carrying the heavy stuff placed
in their arms by the hopers of the gospel of help.
A good conversation where words do surgery
teaches me to prepare my inner child's voice 
to expand the prophetic imagination.  Channeled
anger resists truth-telling accountable to no one
in a responsible position with any power over
who is more exceptional in providing charity
to those who know no justice.  All people 
color when leading the march to eliminate
silence as a standard of perfection.  So pick 
your own assortment of phrases that will help you
resist isolation from the practice of calling out
and bringing nothing in except another challenge
to hope that others will take care of the self
while delivering gifts of care to the community.

Two Deer

Allow risk in worship of the flowers
blooming this time of year.  It is not 
your responsibility to stimulate others
into smiling and nodding at the pleasures
of life.  Two deer will always stroll by
the window when you try to write these 
words.  Another first day of spring gently 
moves across the cacophony only heard 
by the few. 

The Spider in the Corner

I sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I don't want to give the words 
of the prophet any chance 
to ruin my day today."

She rolled over and, waking up,
slowly said, "Was that you yelling
in the bathroom?"

"Yes," I answered.  "I stepped out
of the shower and turned to the spider
in the corner above the door and asked,
How do you get food?"

Yawning while arching her back to stretch,
she said, "It helps to remember that
creation and completion are two
very different acts."

I agreed.  "Such a strong feeling threatens
to overwhelm me."

She sat up.  "All the more reason
to recognize your need to be in
the midst of people who stimulate you."