Present

From New Poems:

Conversations in the Closet

A conversation in the closet
Am I really talking to myself?
I said,
“Gentlemen, it’s time to go
Consider this not so much ‘cutting and running’
As a wisely thought out retreat
If you don’t beat it, I’ll have a Horn brought in
And when this Lion roars
I’ll bring the House down upon your heads.”

Your ears will be ringing
With what I will be bringing

A gong will sound
And you’ll be found guilty
Your crimes so severe
Even Jesus can’t save you
You’d rather be a Judas
To my country
And to your own faith
Then bathe in the beauty around you

As I’ve said
I don’t care what I say anymore
And what I say is this,
“You can kiss your ass goodbye.”

The Kool-Aid you would pass out
Is the poisonous kind
Go drink yourself blind
And stop being so curious about me
‘Cause this Monkey’s got the key
And your cracked kingdom will crumble
Upon the dust bins of history
Where you will be thrown out with the trash

God is on my side
God is on our side

So pack your ass up
And ride on out of here
This trashed house is my home
I’m not the one who’ll be evicted
It will be as I predicted:
Addicted to power, your tower will fall
With the names of the ones that have dropped
In the name of all that is Holy
Let their souls not have been buried for nothing

The rubble of your lies and plans
Will follow you
And the ones that ? oat and who still aren’t at rest
Their numbers keep growing

So go drown yourself in the tide
I’ve been the one in hiding
And to what purpose?
I’ve stayed silent
For fear of a puppet
Who thinks he pulls his own strings
Pretending
Playing soldier
When he is just a fraud
And false generals who have never stood close to the fallen
Will crumble in the heap that you reap

I see the blood of children
And I pray to God
That the bloody sod you’ve left behind
Will one day bear some fruit
Flowing rivers of plenty
To wash away this desert’s pain
With a cleansing and healing rain

The sacrificed survive and sleep in the soil
You’d rather go fishing while others toil
Flags draped over coffins like blankets
Won’t keep wives and children warm

Take this as a warning—
If you want to patch a leaky boat
You have to pull it out of the water
First

All you death dealers—
Change your ways!
Or else you’ll find that this tide will sink us all
And your fool’s paradise won’t be waiting
I’ve no wish to go down in a flood
But if the boatmaster is ready and
Your heart won’t float
Jesus won’t be the one you meet

So move your feet
It will be your last chance
I’ve come out of the closet
And I’m taking a stance



War (The Pink Shoes)
For the little Palestinian girl in Gaza who lost her shoes

War
A senseless crapshoot with no winners
Except corrupt, hypocritical holy rollers
Who wear expensive shiny objects
Or dress in a power-mad cleric’s rags

Battleship games hold no interest for me
I could never play chess with a human life
Or roll the bone dice
That are the Truths that bombs scatter and tell
The lies of an honest death in an
Unjust murder

Old sins that don’t lie
Burried in the sand
Sticky wet with dark red blood
Hearts spill out onto the soil
And bleed bitterly
Eyes empty and tearless
Pray now for a future free from fear

Yesterday
Children lost in their dreaming
Who will never awaken
Lead the parade
Holding dead flowers and a battered teddy bear
One little girl
Wonders what happened to her pretty pink shoes

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From Song to the Beloved:

Stones

Jesus said:
“Ye who are without sin cast the first stone.”

I am no adulterer.
I keep my stones in a bowl.
You can throw yours at the mirror if you want to.

Rumi said:
“I am your mirror, and here are the stones.”



Friend, Fear Not

Friend, fear not
For I am not
The one who would betray you

Friend, fear not
For you are but an anchor in the sky
And I am just your Archer

The old ones look at us and laugh
Shams and his Beloved
Dance in the heavens above

I see your fears clearer than you do
Have you forgotten the necessity of laziness?

It takes time for the snows to melt
And the dams to break free

I see a river of fresh salmon
They’re flying fast over the falls

White spray in the rush
Such a hunger to touch
Catch me fast
For the grizzlies are fishing