growing uncertainty

words about my father's ways
sprouting beliefs about myself
a long time trying to heal her, heal myself
by mowing down any sign of the same within me
never hearing which parts were ok
never hearing parts truly wrong
just the seed of choking vines
thriving in the dark
withering in light

but night

when I am alone
not just in bed, but inside myself
thuderclouds of worry and fear
keep me locked inside
I have no raingear

for her tears

simply water the seeds
of what I'd believed:
father that I never had
i am doomed to be;
husband she had dreamed about
I could never be.

Resurrection/Insurrection

When I woke up this morning, my eyelids rose like the sun,
but Six hours late; the day had begun,
Ran the globe like a Gerbil to keep up with the sun,
So afraid of the dark I'd become.

I looked out on amber waves of grain that had kept my eyes warm,
and realized an enemy had been born.
Where did all this fear come from - I thought I was safe?
at least since Jesus erased my mistakes - My mistake...
Past sins may be covered but future ones remain, with the pain,
That's how God wants us playing this Game...


It's the tension we don't like to mention...
You'll find me huddled in the corner, a mourner,
peering out where the shadows can't find my eyes; I realize
that Rise is a place where we pitch our tents,
but with stakes that are writhing and driving and Bent --
Don't lament -- and yet...

We all play a part in making prophets' dreams come true--
So don't give a hoot: Pitch in, and pollute,
Cause we're sinners, with innards twisted hiding the truth:
With every layer of hurt comes a layer of guilt, settling down like silt,
It's how we're built.

And if Jesus wants to hang there on the cross to forgive us, fine,
But it we'd let him live, he's just be one of us...
He couldn't have gotten up there without us...

Someone had to sin, for Jesus it's an easy roll of the dice --
But we all blame Judas without thinking twice.

I'm Judas, I'm caught in God's catch-22
I'm going to do God's will then Get crucified too
He's a Jew, and they've been taking the fall, for us all,
From hitler, all the way back to Peter and Paul
But wait -- Weren't they Jew's too?

What hope do we have / if Anti-Semitism goes so far back? When the
Jews had to join us, they lost their counter attack.
no more whining, they inherited our hate, and self-hate was born
And centuries on centuries of internalized fathers we'd never be good enough for.
Think you can grow up and escape from the parents inside?
But there's nowhere to hide - there's nowhere to hide...
So we stuff it all down and then turn it to pride...

Not the Bride of Christ but the Bride of Godzilla:
Welcome to America, how can we Kill ya?
No wonder Judas hung himself from the nearest tree;
He wanted to die in time to get Out of Jail free
When Christ busted Gates open, he went along for the ride --
He knew God's plan, and the hell left behind

on Earth... It's Earth Day, and Shakespeare's Birthday
Was it worth it? What do you say? / To play the part
of birthing art through destruction - that's our function -
whether Christian or not - to heap starbucks cups into landfills cum methane fields and drive the wheels for oil spills to all become a lake of FIRE -

Our job is to destroy the planet... so God can finally Damn it.


(Ahem)
M: As we crucify the land and the Sea, we're only
Fulfilling prophecy. What more do you want from me, G?

G: Maybe some pain in your heart for what you're tearing apart.
Worst thing you could do is think you're home free --
You keep forgetting it all depends on ME.

M: But Lord, its Manifest Destiny. We're staking our claim
with our flags and our drills - Aren't you thrilled? We're finally
Getting this thing under control -- and once our drugs defeat death,
We won't need you at all!

G: The stakes in the land are the spikes in my hands -
And the spear in my side's spilling Carbon Dioxide.

M: We'll stick a spear in the permafrost and then light a match - and to the cattle grazing.
We're taking our stand -- Keg stand, that is -- we're gettin you and this planet DRUNK.
And see if you'll survive the hazing.

G: All the sour wine in Cana won't settle your stomachs.
Your acid reflux can't be cured with drugs -
Cause each night it is _I_ who drip in your cups.

...
John said, "whoever sinneth, hath not seen..." But didn't I see him last week?
When I was at my peak? didn't I hear him speak?
But then I sinned again -- so maybe I was just walking with a ghost --
I didn't touch his hands, too caught up in my plans --
Maybe all along my faith has been built on sand...

The only way to enter in is through SIN - THAT brings me down again.
And remember it is hands with holes that hold me - that's why I keep slipping through...
When I start seeming perfect I think I'm Jesus too. So sue me -
Sin needs to be written on my face to help me remember my place.

Fill the wounds with salt, say it wasn't our fault
Fill the wounds with salt, say it wasn't our fault

Gospel writers had Judas,
The Nazis had Jews,
Its always better to find someone else to accuse

Fill the wounds with salt, say it wasn't our fault

Hey Jude, your blood-stained clothes couldn't be any wetter;
Take this sad song from me and make it better

Fill the wounds with salt, say it wasn't our fault

EasierToHang a Christ from the Cross
than admit he's the Boss;
(until we taste the albatross)

Fill the wounds with salt, say it wasn't our fault

Now unemployment's Rising, same time as our Lord;
Better let someone else die by the sword
Impale him, let KVI string them from Cords,
Cause the Lords we choose in the end will be Hitler - or Sarah Palin.


So does that mean we're off the hook?
Does american passtime bible-thumping mean we take a bat to the book?
Can we finally look at what we've done -- knowing now that God has won?
Or do we savor the flavor of being saved --
No longer a slave to sin, Now again we want slaves...

No reel me in, feel me Jesus, reveal us / even if its
against free will to seal us. You can't save us from sin -
In fact you need it to win - Cause then we need you,
and that's where we begin.

If you DON'T want to hang yourself regularly, something is definitely wrong -
So touch your friend's hand while you have them along.
And share a piece of your fish, for that hole in their side.
Decorating a Cross? That's just how we share in the ride.

written for Easter II / COTA Earth Day Reverb 4/25/09

one of the twenty words for snow

I wish the destruction of her house.

I wish the luscious flames to consume it in snowfall.

Her smile and shining foreheads of her family in the prarie

Turned to ash, tossed to breeze

wretched in its own disease.

Silence. And Howling: the wind through empty doorways.

A field on which to lay myself

And freeze my naked brittle sheath

To cracking shatter frost and gloom

where fragments of my loss maroon

on frozen blood spat underneath

Bound up in twisting coils of stale,

One of the twenty words for snow

now lays me down and throws away

the thoughts that haunt me everyday

of winter smiles in that old house.

Whale - orig June 5, 2005

do you think if I were dying

you would have wanted to stay?

out of complacence, duty, brevity of commitment,

intensity that shadows the world,

a calling to the higher,

a chance to be in control?

would you die with me?

a part of you was dying anyway.

would you plunge to hell to drop me off

and return to wipe the sweat from your brow?

do you want to collapse me, fold me,

and keep me in your soul? You are free to roam,

deliver me, be the whale and I Jonah?

Why insist to marry me

before the transplant?

Twice?

Why did you want to be a widow

but not my wife?

Why did you leave after

I called the transplant off?

Why promise to come back if I go to the hospital

no matter what?

Was I really so terrible

that life together seemed unbearable?

Now if I am dying,

do you regret what you’re missing?

If I promise to die,

Will you hold my hand and finally

let me see into your eyes?

Whale

do you think if I were dying

you would have wanted to stay?

out of complacence, duty, brevity of commitment,

intensity that shadows the world,

a calling to the higher,

a chance to be in control?

would you die with me?

a part of you was dying anyway.

would you plunge to hell to drop me off

and return to wipe the sweat from your brow?

do you want to collapse me, fold me,

and keep me in your soul? You are free to roam,

deliver me, be the whale and I Jonah?

Why insist to marry me

before the transplant?

Twice?

Why did you want to be a widow

but not my wife?

Why did you leave after

I called the transplant off?

Why promise to come back if I go to the hospital

no matter what?

Was I really so terrible

that life together seemed unbearable?

Now if I am dying,

do you regret what you're missing?

If I promise to die,

Will you hold my hand and finally

let me see into your eyes?

2005

turkish submission

dark presence enter

but never approach

you leave him alone

the fear of you wakes him

it's after the dream

held from scream by paralysis

malice escapes while

your memory shakes him

***

exhaust and back sweating

from imperfect pride

now a dark hour¡¯s walking:

I passed on the ride

chagrin, growing weakness.

try walking less taxing,

that way that you learned

try imagining home,

just an hour returned

try praying the sweetness

so recent discerned¡¦

it¡¯s a walk

but its more

like a spiritual question

the answer we have

only three miles

to stalk

it¡¯s his dream

but its more

like a spiritual quest

for the power

the dark spirit

to rest.

***

with hands crawling climbing

his dreams finally culminate

reaching and ripping

his body from flesh

with a fresh chill to still

his soul deeper inside

he confides the discovery:

peace beyond reach.

=

this is

God¡¯s earth before me

not three miles ahead

but here in this bed

of imperfect turf

and I am with God;

my new home is anywhere

whole at the center

since three days before

when I took his advice

against reaching and ripping

my core; this hole

into which Christ could pour.

The blindness that calls itself Justice

Here are the brothers

who murdered my Grandmother.

Here is the coat

they bought with SSI

then forgot

at her house

after they murdered my Grandmother.

Here’s the nice stuff

that they took from her house

and then sold to get clothes

the night after

they murdered my Grandmother.

Here is the family

that watches the trial

of their sons

who murdered my Grandmother.

Here is the Father

who sucks air from a tank

who lets me go first

who humbles himself down

who looks grievous as I

cause he knows

his sons murdered my Grandmother.

Here is the talk

where I eavesdrop and hear

the Dad telling his kids

they can’t afford parking

cause they got towed before

so they can’t see the trial

of their brothers

who murdered

my Grandmother.

Here is my pocket

that holds a free pass

to the parking garage

because someone murdered

my Grandmother.

Here are the families, both of them victims: one family rich, whose pain is assuaged; one family poor, who gets no parade.

Here is the blindness that calls itself justice: helping the rich, ignoring the poor, though the money thing led them to kick in her door.

Here is the moment

where I hand my free parking

to the trembling hand

of the bloodshot-eyed father

of the boys

who murdered

my Grandmother.

the girl with lollipop eyes

the girl with

lollipop-eyes,

butterfly-lashes,

cloud-top laughter

cries about

the relentlessly cruel

people

she works with.

in a silent moment,

she will reach out in conversation,

to get burned by their callousness

again and again

Why do you reach? I ask her

A wild animal, trapped,

may call to your heart,

only to lash out

when you approach.

The animal is stressed;

your approach stresses it more.

So don¡¯t reach out:

you will get hurt

and now two need help.

Stand back,

it will lick its wounds,

and later, maybe,

you can free its leg.

You can grow strong

from a distance,

but you will never heal

through compulsive compassion.

¡¦¡¦

She thanks me for the metaphor,

¡°Do I pay you at the door?¡±

Ha, ha.

¡¦¡¦

I am also a wild animal.

On the surface, I smile, give good advice.

but get too close,

and I will lash out.

Those who have loved me

have learned the price.

They all leave,

bearing the scars

of hearts

once too open.

In this way,

one wound

becomes many.

My parents¡¯ divorce

teaches heartbreak

to an entire

generation.

so be strong, protect yourself.

ignore my pleas for help.

A wolf also has puppy-dog eyes.

Let me lick my wounds.

Before you offer me lollipops.

blank slate

/to be read aloud:/


i walk when i think
so i speak with the movement
i need to move on
past the problems i drink

where does this life begin
where does a life begin
they tell me i'm a blank slate
tabula rasa - epiphany of my philosophy
society so developed
that it bred out its own soul--
Aryan, master race
what do we have to relate
privilege rides the backs of their struggles
but lifted from dirt and sweat
we lose our roots

identity afloat
society led on by those whose effects
always fall through the cracks,
scraps to be gobbled
by the mouths that lost track
of their own power to CAUSE

and we peddle our souls
for a piece of the soul we can't compose

but the blanket of racket
that rattles our mental blanks
passes us doin eighty
in our own 25-mile-per-hour zone
past country homes

we have a history but we just don't care
because yesterday's an ancient memory
and our struggles, given voice
might compromise our choice

give me something, scotland,
russia poland czechoslovakia
to know that my struggles began
before my mom threw out my dad
before dad's affairs,
before my acne scars,
before the towers took my faith
before my grandma faced that knife
something that tells me i've been around
my people started laying tracks
so i don't have to start from scratch

i'm a blank slate with stains;
the chalk line remains.



--composed by inspiration from Miguel Pinero,