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Saturday, November 30, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 16: St Andrew the Apostle




X marks the spot where Saint Andrew died
Hands like double eagles in the sky
A crossroads on a cross at the crossroads
And patron of nations at all points
He found the Christ and sent Him everywhere

He was always one to call a friar a pope
And a messiah a messiah
And step back after introducing the two

He knew how many five loaves would feed
But still brought them to the Lord
It was the best way to bring 5,000 men
Not to mention the women and children
Or at least only in passing like him

If you were uncircumcised but circumspect
You could go through Andrew the Introductor
And be the first Gentiles to meet Jesus

Saint Andrew was always on the spot
No matter what he was fishing for
Like a net spread on the seas
His witness hooked the whole world
And brought them to Jesus' house

Friday, November 29, 2013

40 Days of Blogging 15: Avarice (Love of Money)



They say it's only time,
But what else is there?
Everything takes it,
Then it's gone.
They say you can redeem it-
Buy back the years
The locusts have eaten.
I'm not sure I want
Regurgitated time.

They say it's only money.
But time is money
And we've already
Spent time on that.
When it comes right down to it
It doesn't matter
If you have all the time
And all the money
In the whole world-
Neither can buy you love.

Nobody says it's only love.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 14: Giving Thanks to God as a Nation



We thank God for bellies full just like we have all year
We thank Him for the football game and cheap U.S.-made beer
We thank God for our family and for our friends who came
We thank Him for some other things that all sound kind of lame

We thank God we're 'Mericans except for us who ain't
We thank Him for the beauty that we cover up with paint
We thank God for the freedom to worship as we choose
We thank Him for one more time that we can hit the snooze

We thank God that we are not like other countries are
We thank Him that in all ways we're superior by far
We thank God we have more to be proud of than we can tell
We thank Him, gorge, then send ourselves into shopping Hell

We thank God - it rolls so smooth and thoughtlessly from our tongue
We thank Him today but it's not the tune usually sung
We thank God when we should fast and mourn and pray and serve
We thank Him He does not give us the thanks that we deserve


Wednesday, November 27, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 13: Eucharist as Great Thanksgiving




There are no thankful individuals
Thanksgiving requires participation
Something given and received
Someone gratiated without
Someone being ingratiating

Thanksgiving is something you eat
Something that eats you
Ingestion and digestion
Are gratitude's cause and effect
And both soul and body are nourished

Even savages are aware
Communion requires flesh
Co-mingled in gratitude
And it makes you one
With all of God and man

So come you thankful people
Come to harvest home
Soon we will be the sheaves
We will be the daily bread
The wine and water poured out


Tuesday, November 26, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 12: Vestments



The first vestments were made of fig leaves
Before that Sunday Best was the birthday suit
And after that God gave us leather - that chafed

There were several points to be noted
And vestments were made to cover them up
Flat-chested innocence was over and gone

The first vestments weren't any good
Because we made our vestments for ourselves
They must be made by and from someone else

We'll still need vestments when we're made perfect
Christ vested himself with us and became our sin
And made us his righteousness, vested with himself


A story on a similar theme, but with humour:
http://couldhavebeenepic.blogspot.com/2013/11/well-you-gave-her-to-me.html


Monday, November 25, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 11: Turkey





Thanksgiving bird, Thanksgiving bird,
How lovely are thy drumsticks!
Thanksgiving bird, Thanksgiving bird,
How lovely are thy drumsticks!
From crispy skin to bready heart
You make our Thanksgiving start!
Thanksgiving bird, Thanksgiving bird,
How lovely are thy drumsticks!

Thanksgiving bird, Thanksgiving bird,
You are the bird devoured!
For days you give us sandwiches
Until we let out our britches.
Thanksgiving bird, Thanksgiving bird,
You are the bird devoured!

Thanksgiving bird, Thanksgiving bird,
Your tryptophans will teach me
That fellowship and dried wishbone
Is how peace is best homegrown.
Thanksgiving bird, Thanksgiving bird,
Your tryptophans will teach me.


Sunday, November 24, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 10: Blogger's Choice 2


Lyrics by me, 
Music (including the singing and playing in the link below) by Johnny Larrabee


God breathed the Word that formed all the world 
The heavens and nature whole 
And then He formed in His image man 
And breathed in him a living soul 

 I breathe the very breath of God 
Without His breath I cannot live 
His Word, His life, unceasing prayer 
With every breath I take my God is there 

 Jesus the Word, incarnate God 
Very breath of soul divine 
Exhaled His breath upon my heart 
And now His living breath is mine 

 I breathe the very breath of God 
Without His breath I cannot live 
His Word, His life, unceasing prayer 
With every breath I take my God is there 

 Father God, my every breath 
It's Your name on which I call 
I cannot breathe apart from you 
You are my God my breath my all 

I breathe the very breath of God 
Without His breath I cannot live 
His Word, His life, unceasing prayer 
With every breath I take my God is there 

 The kiss of life You give to me 
I know I cannot breathe apart from Thee


Saturday, November 23, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 9: Sabbath



Ah, the Sabbath -
An hour of nagging, followed by
Two hours of standing, followed by
An hour of forced fellowship, followed by
Ah - the Post-Liturgical Nap!
The rest made for man
To rest from his resting.
I have sworn, yea, I have sworn
And I will not repent:
My children shall not enter my rest.

If you think work is hard,
Try resting in the arms of God;
His idea of rest is
"My yoke is easy and my burden light."
Load-sharing is not lazing,
Wresting is not resting,
No one ever kneed a nap,
And I need a nap.

I think we rest so well after Liturgy
Because we've got ourselves together-
It's hard to rest when one is
Pulled by every wind,
But once all are one together
Then one can prostrate.
Science can't tell us why we sleep-
That is the purview of religion:
I will lay me down in peace and sleep
For only you, Lord, keep me safe.


Friday, November 22, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 8: Canned Food



We store our treasure in cans like misers
And hide them in Heaven's food banks
We compel them to come in to the Feast
By making the banquet room go to them
They have not just been married
They have not acquired a new field
They are not having a cow
They do not have a wedding garment
Unless we share what we have been given
And neither also do we
Unless we share what we have been given
Bring your tithes of grain
Bring the caul of the liver
Bring your winter coat
Bring the shirt off your back
Into the storehouse where God keeps
Everything that has been given away
And gives himself in exchange
Food for us to eat like beggars, like children


Thursday, November 21, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 7: Holy of Holies


https://badbadboypublications.bandcamp.com/track/holy-of-holies

There she stood
Wanting a place with the worshipers
If she only could
She'd kiss every painted man's face
But only a virgin
Was worthy to enter that tomb of life
Alas of her innocence there was left no trace

Woe is me
For I am the chief of sinners
Woe is me
For I have seen the Lord
I cannot live without coming into his presence
With coals of the broom tree
I can be made flame at his word

There she prayed
She called out to the holy of holies
In whose womb was made
The only true lover of man
And she was born again
And able to bear God within her flesh
Enter the cave and with all the worshipers stand

Woe is me
For I am the chief of sinners
Woe is me
For I have seen the Lord
I cannot live without coming into his presence
With coals of the broom tree
I can be made flame at his word

She went out
Into the desert of Palestine
And she had no doubt
There she would be purified
And there she became
All unveiled the holy of holies
As in her virgin flesh the Lord was glorified

Woe is me
For I am the chief of sinners
Woe is me
For I have seen the Lord
I cannot live without coming into his presence
With coals of the broom tree
I can be made flame at his word


Wednesday, November 20, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 6: Glory





My glory is a splinter against the morning sky
My glory is a splinter against the morning sky
The tree upon the hilltop where God has come to die
My glory is a splinter against the morning sky

My glory stands in darkness when God is dead and gone
My glory stands in darkness when God is dead and gone
The veil of death is parted and life for all is won
My glory stands in darkness when God is dead and gone

My glory is forsaken by all but flesh and bone
My glory is forsaken by all but flesh and bone
The halls of Hell are harrowed and God is on his throne
My glory is forsaken by all but flesh and bone

My glory is to lift you to Heaven on the cross
My glory is to lift you to Heaven on the cross 
If you will be there with me I will not suffer loss
My glory is to lift you to Heaven on the cross 

My glory is a splinter against the morning sky
My glory is a splinter against the morning sky
The sun who shone upon it will raise me by and by
My glory is a splinter against the morning sky



Tuesday, November 19, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 5: He Who Began a Good Work



I want to go
But there is work still left to do
A work I began in you
And I've got to see it through
I want to stay
But there is so much to die for
Waiting on the other shore
Is the one that I adore
I want to go

You are a vineyard
And I just tend the vines
And we both drink of the wine
Stomped from our soul
And we save the best for last
All together when life's past
We will be whole

I want to go
But there is work still left to do
A work I began in you
And I've got to see it through
I want to stay
But there is so much to die for
Waiting on the other shore
Is the one that I adore
I want to go

You are the harvest
And I just sowed the seed
The field's watered when I bleed
You're in my heart
And we'll be that broken bread
Giving life when we are dead
And torn apart

I want to go
But there is work still left to do
A work I began in you
And I've got to see it through
I want to stay
But there is so much to die for
Waiting on the other shore
Is the one that I adore
I want to go

You are my children
Sons and daughters of my love
For the one who waits above
For me to go
But for your sake I will stay
And he'll go with us on the way
Til we get home

I want to go
But there is work still left to do
A work I began in you
And I've got to see it through
I want to stay
But there is so much to die for
Waiting on the other shore
Is the one that I adore
I want to go


Monday, November 18, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 4: Blogger's Choice


Written on the fast of the beheading of St John the Forerunner

To hear the tune, go here: http://badbadboypublications.bandcamp.com/track/dance-salome



Dance, Salome,
Dance while you may
The time is coming when they’ll want your head, too
Dance, Salome,
Give what you’ve got
Ah, you’ve got to dance while the blood is hot, hot ooo
Oooo-ooo-ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooo

They’ll tell you you should be your own king
And they’ll tell you to throw off everything
And to dance all night, be a good girl all day
And to follow them and to go your own way
Their own way

You’ve got to
Dance, Salome,
Dance while you may
The time is coming when they’ll want your head, too
Dance, Salome,
Give what you’ve got
Ah, you’ve got to dance while the blood is hot, hot ooo
Oooo-ooo-ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooo

They’ll tell you you shouldn’t listen to me
If you’ll be their slave then you can be free
And they’ll tell you you should ask for my head
And you’ll all be happy after I’m dead
They’re all dead

You’ve got to
Dance, Salome,
Dance while you may
The time is coming when they’ll want your head, too
Dance, Salome,
Give what you’ve got
Ah, you’ve got to dance while the blood is hot, hot ooo
Oooo-ooo-ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooo

Salome, dance
Don’t look at the crowd
Don’t let your conscience scream out too loud
Dance,
And you can be free
It doesn’t matter what happens to me
You’ve got to
Dance, Salome,
Dance while you may
The time is coming when they’ll want your head, too
Dance, Salome,
Give what you’ve got
Ah, you’ve got to dance while the blood is hot, hot ooo
Oooo-ooo-ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooo
Oooo-ooo-ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooo

Dance, Salome
Dance while you can
You know no one else will understand
Dance, Salome
Dance just for me
It’s only when you dance that I’m free
That we’re free
Oooo-ooo-ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooo
Oooo-ooo-ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooo
Oooo-ooo-ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ooo, Ooo-ooo-ooo

Sunday, November 17, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 3: Vanity




Vanity is so common nowadays
That we name furniture after it.
"Get me a piece of chocolate cake
Out of the gluttony, please"
"Lets watch a movie on the lust"
"I'll be there right after I update
My status on Pridebook"
We'd feel funny saying these,
True though they may be.
But we're comfy at the vanity.

Many think one has to think
They are beautiful to be vain.
But we keep our make-up
In the vanity - vanity and lies.
Vanity is a socially-networked
Hypocrisy, kind of like blogging:
Done at home while not-looking
In the mirror, seeing only
What we're putting on, and
Not what is really behind it all.

Poetry blogging may be the
Ultimate exercise in vanity:
A "Look at me!" that nobody
Looks at, but, hey, I'm a poet!
Like tongues, no one gets it,
And there's no interpreter.
If I wanted to say something
Other than "Look at me!"
I'd have written an essay,
Or gone to the closet to pray.


Saturday, November 16, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day 2: Fasting



Fasting is easier as a virtue of omission than commission
It's easier to give up meat than to take the meat of the Word
It's easier to lament our sins than to confess them
It's easier to quit wine and whining than to be a blessing

We can save a lot by fasting, including our own souls
But it's much harder to spend ourselves for others
I don't mean alms - giving alms is an omission of guilt -
I mean committing ourselves to an Institution.

We're told we need to give up taking, and take up giving
But the only thing we need we can only receive
And the only thing we can do to get it is be there
And be taken up as offerer, offered and offering

We abstain from fleshy things to become one flesh
And from violent drink to be poured out on the cross
Let us also abstain from words to be the Gospel
And from being individuals to be Christ's one body


Friday, November 15, 2013

40 Days of Blogging Day One: Beards


My beard is grown from piety
Of razor there's no trace
You have no beard so I assume
You're lacking in God's grace

Holy water puts the hair
On my bearded chin
You have no beard so I assume
Your cup is full of sin

My beard is like Aaron's which flowed
With oil to the robe's hem
They have no beard so brotherhood's
Not possible with them

The face can feature beard or shame
That's all the choice there is
I have no shame under this beard
On yours that's all there is

Our Lord's beard was plucked and shame
Was heaped upon his head
Perhaps my beard is pride and sin
In prayer I bare my head



Monday, November 11, 2013

Thanks For Serving

We have no record of the first war.
I don’t mean Cain cudgeling Abel,
Although all wars are between brothers.
And I don’t mean “There was war in Heaven”-
There were no casualties in that war
Except humans here on earth.

I mean war, real and inpersonal,
Where every man is an ascetic,
Every man seeks the salvation
Of his own people, and gives up
His home, his family, his soul.

All he has left is a good God,
And he fights for that greater Good.
All wars are religious, because
All wars are sacrilegious.
Just like we rob the poor by our wealth,
We rob the warrior with our peace.

We say “Thanks for serving”
Without joining in the cup,
And miss that he is offered and offering,
The soldier is our national Eucharist.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Woman



Woman, where were you looking for me?
You should have known where I would be,
In my Father’s house, showing the scribes
Where I am on every page they copy.

Woman, what do you want from me now?
It is not time to pour out wine and water.
The sword that pierces you has not yet
Pierced the lamb led to the slaughter.

Woman, behold your son born of your word
And born of the Word on the Tree,
Here where I said I would be found,
Pouring out my life-giving wine for free.