dying for Christmas version 1
December 5, 2007
The tree we cut
and carried
into our home
the one
we shackled
trimmed
sang to
and toasted
(rip a suckling child
from its mother)
(put makeup on a statue)
(be happy at a rape)
now lies on
its side
in the gutter
alone
with hooks
and tinsel
blowing in the wind
we are not called to adoration
May 3, 2007
(BLASPHEMY!)
we are called to act in fellowship.
(it is a SIN to miss the ceremonies!)
we are asked to think beyond our selves –
(the only way to save your sorry ass is to OBEY!)
beyond sex and possessions beyond security and agenda.
(the most important thing is to avoid HELL!)
we are asked to dive in and swim upstream,
(keep your nose in the BOOK!)
living our lives to serve others …
dying for Christmas
January 20, 2007
The tree we cut
and carried
into our home
the one
we shackled
trimmed
sang to
and toasted
(rip a suckling child
from its mother)
(put makeup on a statue)
(be happy at a rape)
now lies on
its side
alone
with her hooks
and tinsel
riffling in the wind
Did you get your PlayStation3 yet?
December 23, 2006
Photo by Mike Wells – Uganda (1980)
If you want to love Jesus
December 22, 2006
He looks like this:
Not this:
“oh, you see, god requires this” said the holy man
December 22, 2006
beggars wear the rags
holy men wear fine robes –
money well spent
Missing Him
December 21, 2006
Let’s work backwards:
First, I will miss him just sitting in his chair
content to smile as if he had no needs –
connected by spirit, happy to be.
I will miss the shuffle of his brave feet
planting the walker ahead like an ice axe;
climbing mountains we could not see.
I will miss him presiding above the fondue
a sorcerer in the candle light,
stirring up batches of yuletide glee.
I will miss him saying grace at the helm
from which he would love, work, and lead
a life of no regret – a life of family.
This is a re-post of a poem I wrote last Christmas about my father in law who had just passed away that October. A poem about the night he died is here:The night Joe left
qazse 