A man of middle-age
stood before the oracle
high on a mountain side.
She asked the man
what he wanted.
He indicated that his life
had been meaningless
and had had no impact.
She said, “Good bye.”
Startled, the man
weakly lifted his right hand
and waved. The tip of his
middle finger glanced
against
a loose pebble.
It fell from its
precarious perch.
It rolled down
dislodging larger rocks
which caused boulders to
careen into a stream.
The stream grew in
intensity and water
rushed down a gorge
joining
other tributaries
into the river.
The torrent roared
into the sea,
underwater currents
reverberated, sea
creatures rose and
descended with the
swirling water and
wind, waves rose
higher and higher
and crashed louder
and louder,
clouds formed, rain
came, winds blew,
snow fell,
precipitation covered
the parched land,
aqua ducts filled,
vegetation grew,
animals flourished,
air rose, birds flew
and as the man’s
hand fell to
his side,
a butterfly blown in
on a zephyr wind
descended on his
left shoulder.

They say they just, just, just love Jesus each
and every day,
but,
only lift, thin, hymn sandwiches his way,
but,
their lives are a mess of issues in just
about every way,
but,
in reality, it is for everyone much the same way
but,
they say Jesus is the answer all,
but,
they aren’t interested in questions at all,
but
they can’t seem to get it together,
but,
if asked, they exude certitude,
but,
she ran away from a God blessed vow
but,
she wants her son to accept Jesus right now,
but,
she wants the good life along with the Sacred Cow,
but,
she says she only cares about heaven,
but,
this marriage is more like hell and less like heaven,
but,
they all love Jesus, their kids, too,
but,
there is this one who has gone her own way,
but,
they see her as a rebellious stray,
but,
she actually seems to have it together
but,
of course, she has issues, too,
but,
they say, if she accepted their tribal Bible’s Jesus,
but,
she looks at their lives and just sees a mess,
but,
she likes questions but answers less,
but,
they know it all; Jesus for every question,
but,
they are anti-abortion,
but,
wouldn’t think of the inconvenience of adoption,
but,
never minorities; that’s no option,
but,
they want Mexicans to go back home,
but,
they won’t lift a finger to clean a resort room,
but,
they won’t lift a finger to mow their golf course,
but,
they think gays by nature are inverse, of course,
but,
if gays express love, they then become perverse.
but,
only they are going to heaven,
but,
Jews, too, by another covenant,
but,
for Muslims there is no such divine agreement,
but,
their lives are such a mess with such unhappiness,
but,
if asked, they exude certitude,
but,
while they know that Jesus is the way,
but,
in the lap of luxury they wish to stay,
but,
they don’t see Mammon getting in the way,
but,
Jesus, the Capitalist, just wants them happy,
but,
only in their misguided, certain, no questions way,
but,
from the absolute, black and white truth,
they will not stray,
so,
miserable and unhappy they will stay,
for their Jesus is the only way.

I love this guy!
What’s not to love about this guy?
He’s so totally rainbow
coalition American: white mom,
black dad, raised by white
grandparents in Hawaii, found
himself, his life
and his wife on the south-side
of Chicago.
He had some great one-liners,
quick, impromptu, could
be a great stand-up in his
next incarnation, and
then there is the oh, so
sly, sweet, smirky, smart-
ass smile — his non-verbal
gotcha.
I love this guy!
What’s not to love about this guy?
He is our future so totally now.
He’s ours.
He’s our “no lame duck, I
won both times, here’s
the agenda” president,
and I just can’t get that oh, so
sly, sweet, smirky, smart-ass
smile out of my head.
Even as an old, white guy
I can’t help myself,
“You go, bro!”

Technology is
leaving the rust-
belt poet
in the dust.
But personal
freedom, self-
determination and
perhaps a misguided
notion of privacy
are a must.
He writes on and
lets the chips fall
and won’t make
a fuss.
He just posts
what he feels,
and hopes
the words won’t
turn to rust
and then dust,
but in any event,
not to
be fussed.

Heaven approached
and scared me away.
It wasn’t what I
imagined nor was
taught each Sunday.
So I settled for the
devil I knew,
that which was
comfortable and could
be counted on
through and through.
“Lord, I really must
demur.
It is this
world I simply do
prefer.”
I really don’t mean
it when I pray,
“Thy will be done
in heaven and on earth
everyday in every-way.”
No, it’s no fun having
the bejesus scared
out of me with all
that fuss,
so, “If you don’t mind,
Lord, I’ll just pass
for now and wait till
death to catch a ride on
that heaven-bound
bus.
And to be
perfectly clear,
I’m not sure I
won’t still be
in fear.”

The man asked the master, “Why?”
The master said, “Ah.”
The man asked, “What?”
The master said, “Arrgh.”
The man asked, “Where?”
The master said, “Here.”
The man asked,”Here?”
The master said, “Here and there.”
The man hummed, “Hmmm.”
The master said, “And that, too.”
The man asked, “When?”
The master said, “Now.”
The man asked, “Now?”
The master said, “And then.”
The man asked, “Now and then?”
The master said, “Then and then,”
looking back and forth.
The man asked, “Then and then?”
The master said, “Ah and Arrgh, now
and then and then, yin and yang
and auld lang syne and
hmmmm all in Einstein time.”
The man asked, “There’s a connection here?”
The master said, “And there and everywhere.”
The man scratched his head, said
“Thank you, I think,”
and headed to bed.

Dante wrote,
“In the middle of the road of my life
I awoke in the dark wood
where the true way was wholly lost,”

or so I thought so many times, but
it’s always hind sight isn’t it?
Looking but not being able to see

the forest for the trees, I thought
I should have been an attorney or
a clinical psychologist not a poor

country preacher. With deep, heart-
felt regrets for taking up the
precious time of others with my re-

curring fraughts and oughts —
shoulda, coulda, woulda — until
I sat in a pew opposite the pulpit

that I knew so well and knew how
much I needed to hear good news.
Then I knew I only thought I was

lost; but now I know even in part,
knew and will know and it was, is
and will be good every step along

the way, each day. Could I not
have known, thus saving sorrows
and regrets? I know now, which is

then and will be and I was, am and
will be free. I have stared into the
abyss, green Grendel’s lake of dark

dreams, he reaching out to drag
me into the suffocating soup of
oblivion before Beowulf befriend-

ed me. Am I not to sleep? I went
down into the lake and met the
mother of all my fears, for one

had gone before and there in the
dark, I saw the bright beach with
hot sand dripping blood from the

beautiful blond only to discover
that I was stabbing myself. Drop-
ping the knife, I embraced myself;

the wounds healing in my awakening
and I am grateful to have been what
I was, am and will be in God’s ever-

present, compassionate eternity.

The singer belted out the
national hymn without
missing a

beat. Right on cue, the
Air Force fighter
jets buzzed

the throngs. The crowd roared
amens of approval.
The commercial

showed the most storied
sniper sniping in
the movie

made by the “Go ahead,
make my day,”
man who

speaks to empty seats. Then
a kick boxer trash
talked into

the camera, flexed his
muscles and, presum-
ably, kicked

the be-jesus out of some
hapless Henry. Finally,
cartoon G.I.

Joes danced tippy-toed
on a beach with
bombs bursting
at their

feet. And finally, after
getting the okay,
from the

network and all the cor-
porate sponsors
who chomped

big old Cubans, the
congregation cried
for the blood

of the lamb, and the
mostly minority
gladiators

galloped onto the field
for Sunday worship
in Seattle.

We tear rapaciously at the earth
like the lions on the savannah
gnawing away at a carcass.

We call it black gold we are
after when all it does is
blacken our lungs and

the golden of the sky is a lie
fooling us with its beauty
when it is dusty heat

rising and bouncing back to
burn the earth, sear the
sea and dry up coral

reefs so that species vanish,
forests burn and we sit and
suck in black, noxious fumes.

Soon, we will be gone, too,
and in our place, a green
shoot will poke through.

I saw Charlie’s cartoon 
of Jesus 
popping out 
of Mary’s womb
and saw some other cartoons
including the Prophet's
butt, but, 
yes,  
I had a visceral
reaction to bright-eyed,
smiling Jesus 
emerging from 
a daffy Mary’s vagina, 
but,
I caught myself 
saying, kinda,
it’s just a cartoon.
It has something 
satirical to say about 
marketing Christianity;
I could accept it
and let it go
but I’m not a Muslim
watching 
the “Kill a Bunch of 
Muslims Show” 
on T. V. 
brought to you 
by the U.S. and 
European police
and military.
Good taste, bad taste,
in the name of free speech?
Insult upon injury --
“Blow back” is what 
the radicals preach.