Fear is a strange thing.
If left unchecked.
So, I try to corral it, manage it.
But cannot send it packing.
So, I try to understand it.
Like an alarm bell going off in the late night.
Down the street.
Something amiss.
Something wrong.
Letting me know.
Pay attention.
Monday, January 30, 2017
Saturday, January 28, 2017
The Doors Are Slamming Shut
Can you hear it America?
The Doors.
The Doors are being slammed shut.
And sealed tight.
Executive Orders.
And Christian Power.
The Doors are slamming shut.
One-by-one.
Slammed and sealed.
Guarded by doers of good.
"There will be none of that here," they proclaim.
With giddiness and pride.
"We'll have none of that, for we would be pure."
Purity, as they see it, always demands death.
The death of freedom and thought.
Because thought is the bulwark of freedom.
Kill the thought.
Kill the thinker.
And freedom goes away.
And power rises up.
Beware, godly power.
Beware, the power of purity.
Can you hear it America?
The doors are being slammed shut!
The Doors.
The Doors are being slammed shut.
And sealed tight.
Executive Orders.
And Christian Power.
The Doors are slamming shut.
One-by-one.
Slammed and sealed.
Guarded by doers of good.
"There will be none of that here," they proclaim.
With giddiness and pride.
"We'll have none of that, for we would be pure."
Purity, as they see it, always demands death.
The death of freedom and thought.
Because thought is the bulwark of freedom.
Kill the thought.
Kill the thinker.
And freedom goes away.
And power rises up.
Beware, godly power.
Beware, the power of purity.
Can you hear it America?
The doors are being slammed shut!
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Early, I Rise
Early, I rise ...
Like 3:30 or 4 ...
Thinking: Maybe I should try to
Go back
To sleep.
But the mind whirls.
No sleep until tonight.
Or,
Maybe.
An afternoon nap.
I like the early morning.
Quiet.
Dark.
Coffee.
And then the light begins to seep through the cracks of the night.
Reading.
Coffee.
Prayers.
Coffee.
The day begins.
Early, I rise.
Like 3:30 or 4 ...
Thinking: Maybe I should try to
Go back
To sleep.
But the mind whirls.
No sleep until tonight.
Or,
Maybe.
An afternoon nap.
I like the early morning.
Quiet.
Dark.
Coffee.
And then the light begins to seep through the cracks of the night.
Reading.
Coffee.
Prayers.
Coffee.
The day begins.
Early, I rise.
Thursday, January 19, 2017
Dogs
Dogs.
Gotta love ‘em.
They eat shit.
They roll in it.
Gotta love ‘em.
Their breath peels paint.
They smell like hell.
Gotta love ‘em.
Here they come.
A-bounding with joy.
Gotta love ‘em.
It’s all joy for them.
To be with us.
Gotta love ‘em.
Their tails wag like mad.
Slobbering kisses.
Gotta love us.
It's in their DNA.
After millennia.
Gotta love us.
When we eat shit.
And smell like hell.
Gotta love us.
Such is grace.
Shit and all.
Gotta love one another.
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
This Is What Amerika Is
The whole darn thing still feels surreal …
But if Amerikan history tells a story, it well may be that
Obama and his 8 were the surrealist of all.
We’re a nation of Hardings and Hoovers.
We love the spiel of the Chamber of Commerce.
We believe in Capitalism.
Oh, and let’s not forget Coolidge.
And Reagan the smiling shit.
And then the Bushes.
This is who really are.
A nation of sheep.
Who love to be fleeced and slaughtered.
If the killing hand belongs to the rich.
It’s our fate, says the poor.
And maybe I’ll be rich myself some day.
If I worship the Mammon God.
It’s a White Thang, for sure.
Racism to flavor the
Soup of hate.
But that hideous prosperity gospel has
Infected the Black Church, too.
With its hatred of LGBTs and Qs.
This is who we really are.
So let’s not be naive.
Quite being a deer in the headlights.
Jump outta the way and get ready.
For the fight of a lifetime.
For the ever-fight.
The task of opening doors.
Luther fought the good fight.
So did his namesake, MLK.
And so must we.
Because Amerika is what it is.
It ain’t what she used to be.
No, she is what she’s always been
Heil the Chamber of Commerce.
Come on Big Boy, grab us all in the privates.
We’re here for the taking.
This is what Amerika is.
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
All My Best
God-belief is fascinating.
In most of us, and in me, a sliver
of faith - that if I do my best,
Maybe, just maybe, it'll make a difference.
And if there is a god, maybe the two of us:
Can cooperate.
Or, something like that.
And maybe my best is well-received.
That's how I read this morning, Psalm 20:
The LORD answer you in the day of trouble!
The name of the God of Jacob protect you!
2 May he send you help from the sanctuary,
and give you support from Zion.
3 May he remember all your offerings,
and regard with favor your burnt sacrifices.
So, I soldier on in things.
To get a blessing?
I don't think so.
Because the soldiering on is the blessing.
My life coheres when I honor my values:
Faith, hope and love.
So, maybe that's deal.
Honor such things, and somehow the universe responds.
And God remembers all the offerings.
And burnt sacrifices - giving my best.
My best?
Well, that certainly is a variable, too.
But all the pieces of "best" are regarded with favor.
Even when the best is very small.
In most of us, and in me, a sliver
of faith - that if I do my best,
Maybe, just maybe, it'll make a difference.
And if there is a god, maybe the two of us:
Can cooperate.
Or, something like that.
And maybe my best is well-received.
That's how I read this morning, Psalm 20:
The LORD answer you in the day of trouble!
The name of the God of Jacob protect you!
2 May he send you help from the sanctuary,
and give you support from Zion.
3 May he remember all your offerings,
and regard with favor your burnt sacrifices.
So, I soldier on in things.
To get a blessing?
I don't think so.
Because the soldiering on is the blessing.
My life coheres when I honor my values:
Faith, hope and love.
So, maybe that's deal.
Honor such things, and somehow the universe responds.
And God remembers all the offerings.
And burnt sacrifices - giving my best.
My best?
Well, that certainly is a variable, too.
But all the pieces of "best" are regarded with favor.
Even when the best is very small.
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