They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing,
it shall not hurt them. –Mark 16:18
It is really quite ingenious
The various ways we homo sapiens
Honor Jesus. Them Episcopalians
Are saints of softness, dignity & restraint:
They like their liturgy in a stately cadence
That reminds me of The Bard.
But them Pentecostals take their religion
The way I often make my whisky:
Decisive, risky, and hard.
No matter what you worship, how you like your liturgy is a matter of taste. (We welcome Daniel to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay
Sometimes, this world feels bent
And spent beyond repair—
Like a dirty coin too long
In circulation,
Mauled by money’s mad & vicious
Songs of consumption.
Ambition is for the young—
But life isn’t a ladder:
It’s a seduction…
A romance of matter & spirit.
What we adore is what we become:
For God’s sake, I can hardly bear it.
It’s our drive, not tiny, to keep life shiny. – mh clay
Esau said to Jacob, “Let me eat some of that red stuff,
for I am famished!”–Genesis 25:30
Red snapper fish and red velvet cake—
The famous red apple; the slithering snake.
The blood in God’s creatures—the sunset at dusk.
The Indian corn concealed in its husk.
The communist cadre—the red-headed girl.
The socialist padre—the Eurasian red squirrel.
The crimson tide and the precious red rubies.
The color of nipples—on some people’s boobies.
The planet called Mars—the sports car for sale.
The fox in her den—your friend Abigail.
The stop sign on First St.—the pimple that popped.
Mao’s little red book—the tomato you dropped.
The cherries and peppers—the grapes on the vine.
That sweater for Christmas with its horrid design.
The cat in the window—your heart and your kidneys.
And good old St. Nick—coming down the red chimney.
Can’t get enough o’ this red stuff! – mh clay
