Don’t Complain

If I dare,
Yes, if I dare
To be normal,
Would it scare you?

It might be
That I am cruel,
Or, maybe,
I might be a fool.

I might justify
My actions,
Common to
Us, Anglo-saxons.

I might say,
It’s okay to hate.
I might even

I might lump you all
I might think
That I am better.

There’s nothing wrong
With criticizing.
When you’re Number One,
You should flaunt it!

I’m much better
Than all you, Liberals.
I can say
My times tables.

So, let me have
Your worst, come on.
I can take it,
I’m the bomb.

Don’t tell me
To be ashamed.
You’re the one
Who should be blamed.

You, and all
The media
Have blown this thing
Way up, I tell ya’.

There is nothing wrong
With being
Greedy with my
Hard-earned money.

Why should I care
About the rest?
I’m what matters.
I’m the best!

So, don’t complain.
I don’t care.
I am normal.
Does that scare you?


Touch feel heal mercy
Compassion aching pain
Sore anxiety piercing
Throbbing hole abyss
Empty life prayer God
Forgiveness sin Christ
Jesus sacrifice cross
Paid judgment end
Return end new whole
Body love connection
Knowing me unique
Image child cherished
Son abandoned fear
Terrified justification
Confusion broken
Brotherhood fellowship
Divine blood communion


Prayer seems like
A crazy thing, sometimes.
Talking to God,
What a concept.

Is God that accessible?
Seems we think
A lot of ourselves

To take it for granted
That God is available
To us at any time,
In any place.

But that seems to be
What the Bible tells us.
Again, the Bible, already.
Another can of worms.

Some say it is just
A collection of writings
By different authors
Over the span

Of hundreds of years.
It is inspired by God,
But God is not the author.

Does that make it
Any less reliable?
The other source we have
Is all those in our lives

Who have taught us
About prayer,
And about the Bible.
Some things they have told us

Are true,
Some not,
Like what we read

In the Bible.
More messages,
Perhaps, divinely inspired,
Perhaps not.

Along the line,
We have to make a decision:
Who are we going to trust?

For some people,
Like myself,
Trust is a difficult thing.
Who can we trust?

It is possible
That all these people
Are fooling themselves,

Or, maybe,
There is something,
Really out there,

A divine Being,
Just waiting
For us to have a little faith,
And reach out.

I guess it is up to us.

God Here with Us

To touch God,
Even for a moment,
Would be a great privilege.
Can we do so?

My prayers,
Sometimes answered,
Sometimes not,
Allow this,

But I wonder,
Is it real?
Is God as close
As some say?

At various times
In my life,
I have believed
That God is close,

As close as can be.
He is all around us,
And inside of us,
Part of our very being.

God moves through us,
In words and deeds
Of compassion
And mercy.

God speaks through us,
As we comfort one another.
God touches us,
As we reach out to each other.

But what of the times
When it feels like
We are all alone?
Are our hearts hardened?

Where is God
When we are afraid?
Is he here beside us?
Does he feel our fear?

It would seem
That all we have to do
Is ask God into our heart,
And he will come in,

But sometimes,
That just seems too easy.
And life gets in the way.
Suffering produces doubt.

Why does God allow
Such bad things to happen,
If he really cares about us?
It is a mystery.

It is we who cause it,
Or someone, or something
That is a part of the imperfect world

That we live in.
It is not God
That causes bad things to happen.

But, is he
All powerful?
Is he full of mercy?
Is he compassionate?

Why does God
Seem like such a twisted person,
When we consider
All the evil in the world?

Who is to blame?
Or does blaming
Completely miss the point?
Blaming really doesn’t solve anything.

So, perhaps,
God is not the problem,
But neither is he always
The solution.

We need to look within
For that.

Or, maybe,
Instead of trying
To escape from suffering,
We should embrace it,

Simply asking God
To give us the strength
To bear it,
And go from there.


Lack smack tangle rout make
Elevate telecommunicate sour
Grapes mouth orange marks
Of quiet takes smothered rank
Margin state power lost twisted
Frost alleviate sake mellow sate
Wrong tender talent rearrange
Benevolent cancer render ate
Mend counted create quit sake
Rake stop salivate quack sack


Deep, down below,
I lie alone,
Writhing in pain
Until I go insane.
Is this a sentence
For my past sins?
Is this what happens
When I lose,
And God wins?
What is here for me?
So many blessings,
But I can’t grasp them.
I can’t enjoy them.
I can’t feel them.
So many people
Trying to help me,
Yet it is pointless,
As I continue suffering.
No one can make it
Go away.
No one can heal me.
I must endure
Whatever wretched path
That I am given.
Oh, to escape!
To go to heaven!
Anything to stop
The torture,
The pain,
The anxiety.
Please, God,
Have mercy on me.

The Journey

Cascading clouds
Cover a rainbow.
Pouring rain
Floods the streets.
Why would the moose
Hang himself by a noose?
Why try, when you can say goodbye?
Let’s do this: go straight
Until the puddle covers your shoes.
Let’s go to the end of the river,
Where fishes fly,
And splash in the current.
Follow the dirt path
Into the woods.
Smell the blossoms
Of the forest flowers.
Pine and oak trees
Make a canopy
Above your head.
Living strongly,
And dying slowly.
The journey goes on.


Embrace the darkness.
Catch a scent in the cool air
Of a hearth burning slowly.
Sink into a hot bath,
Feel the soap suds,
And the soft water
Caress your body.
Touch the cool inside
Of an aloe plant,
Dab the ointment
On your tender skin.
Crawl down into the warm blankets,
Stretching your legs,
Getting comfy.
Stick the tip of your nose
Out from under the covers,
Just to check to see
How cold it is.
Drink Dark Chocolate Sensation,
Feel it pass down
Your dry throat.
Take a walk outside
In the moonlight,
Stepping on wet leaves.
Yes, winter has arrived.

To Go Home

If I could go
Where I want to go,
I would go home–
Not home, as in a house,
But home, as in a state of being.
I want to rest, to be released,
To reach an end to all this pain.
To dwell in a world of panic,
To live in a mind of torture,
Seems to be the way for me.
But, oh, to have peace, once again.
I do yearn for that.
To find peace again,
Would be the sweetest of gifts.
To be set free
From this mortal coil,
Would be a deliverance,
A bit of justice,
A bit of mercy.
But how? Who? Where?
What can be done?
I was born into this life
To experience this life,
To feel these feelings,
To have these thoughts.
And, for what purpose?
To know the suffering of Christ?
To have my body broken,
Like his, to comfort the weak?
To have mercy as he had mercy,
Hanging on that cross?
Forgive them, Father.
Forgive them.