Mind your own business./There is no such thing as your own business.
Follow the wisest course and be a success./Follow [Jesus] and be crucified.
Drive carefully—the life you save may be your own./Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for [Jesus] sake will find it.
Law and order/Love
Get/Give
*words of Frederick Buechner from one of his meditations
Today, in history, the Civil War ceased,
but the racial animosity continues to increase.
Nothing to win in this zero sum game,
from lynchings, bombings and blame.
Rain down justice, mercy and peace
so this national nightmare will cease.
We are all God’s children — one human race.
May equality, dignity and natural beauty
shine on everyone’s face.
“If you own your own pain
you won’t get into the blame game.”
“Soon enough we will be leaving.”
Soon enough we can stop scheming.
We see the light of a star
even though the star from afar
has been dead, perhaps,
no longer than a synapse,
or for what may be
the finger snap of infinity,
and so, your little light will shine
long after you are supine.
The white-faced owl perched
On the cannon fifty years after
The fierce fighting ceased. The
Wind ruffled the owl’s feathers,
But the owl’s talons held fast,
Digging deeply into the rusted
Neck of the dead cannon.
“Think only to your educators
for your understanding of
yourself.” —- Fifth grade,
dowdy, matronly, female
of my dreams
(Gertrude Stein-ian?)
who made me
concentrate so she
could educate me —
how I feared, thee.
Freshman in college,
short, fat, lisping, stutter-
ing, Shakespearian,
Falstaffian professor
who made me
believe in me.
Senior year,
Hemingway wannabe?
No, just the beard
and love of literature
(who on a beautiful spring day
said to the class, “Go out and play,
er, sit on a stump in the woods
and take it all in.”)
who thought my writing
oh, so mature
for my age.
Who am I to demure
from such affirmation
so pure?
It didn’t
come from me,
but from thee,
all three —
now and forever
with me.
Now!
is the
TIME
for all
good men (sic) [and women]
to come
to the aid
of their
party!
What is good to learn to type
is good for the party,
(cover the keys/cover the bases/cover the basics)
so don't gripe,
snipe,
hype.
Quite the tripe (quit it).
Get your thumbs out of your butts
and do something ---
before we all go nuts....
Fenton Johnson had jumped through
all the ecclesiastical hoops,
did what was necessary to behoove
his anointing to serve those in the pews.
He faithfully served that flock.
But he didn’t evoke
the emotion in the flock,
so the Bishop told
him to give up the flock.
A flim-flam man evoked
all the emotion from the flock,
the church house rocked
and the coffers overflowed
getting the congregation out of hock.
The bishop rejoiced
over the worked-up flock
and all the receipts in stock.
The good Reverend thought
it all an unholy crock.
Was Fenton ever defrocked
or did he just up and quit
muttering
“Such is religion,”?
“And don’t I know it!”
exclaimed the retired minister
with the new vocation
of a fellow, self-published poet.
*idea from (an originally self-published) poem The Minister by Fenton Johnson
He wanted Gouda
For the omelette.
He had Swiss and
Provolone.
But it was really
Gouda.
it’s brief
yes,
but meaningful (?) —
(well)
full, yes —
or empty —
half-full,
half-empty....
the start,
half-pint —
the middle,
a few pints —
the end?
empty--
ing
ng
g
---
His pincers began to feel
heavy, so very heavy he
could hardly hold up his
arms and stiff, so stiff he
could hardly grasp and
clasp all the things, so
he let go. His pincers
turned to hands. He
turned them upward,
open toward the sky
and he looked at all
the lines and wrinkles
and then he lifted them
out of the cold water
and the sun warmed
them and he lifted his
arms as high as they
could go; he stretched
and stretched and let
them fall at his sides.
He breathed deeply
and walked home.
bobdahl 