belief is to feed

Digital Capture

Answer!
We’re too fascinated, fastened to our fashions,
Stacked ads and rancid fads,
Flaccid in our patched passions.
What matters most isn’t plastered
On our fast-latched flash-goals,
Or packed onto our flack-stashing, fatty souls.
Catch Him if you can, cracked ones, or crash.
Your cash won’t make you whole.

Listen!
He invites you in. Light glistens,
Bickering in the spinning night,
Filtered criminals sitting, grinning,
Lit as fitting subliminals, bright.
This time is thinning, my sinners, it’s imminent.
Brim with your winnings, flicker as filaments,
Find in each divine pigment your own,
Simplicity, finitude, filigree, home.

Come!
From grueling suns, foolishly roam,
You crumb-combers, polished bones, boxed ones in zones.
Hone your honesty, honey, hold on when it blows,
Blossom slowly and lovely, more room for more growth
For more thorough thorns, force forging, foraging forms.
Forgo foolproof and long-tooth and lonesome and low,
Fold your cold fortunes forward, foes, flow to more floors,
Full forfeits and forgets will open more doors.

Feast!
For fasting will cease when we die,
Taste these teasers of years spent careening through sky,
The unseemly seekers see clearer, seed nearer,
Flee deeper, ye feeble bleating fearers. Here!
O Dearest, see tears swept swiftly aside, keep keening
In a single weeping Weakling, this Sheep-King.
Know need, Jesus-readers, teach each creature to heed;
For the fleet and the gleeful, belief is to feed.

“A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests. At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.’ But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, ‘I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.’ Another said, ‘I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.’ Still another said, ‘I just got married, so I can’t come.’ The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.’ ‘Sir,’ the servant said, ‘what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.’ Then the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full. I tell you, not one of those who were invited will get a taste of my banquet.’” Luke 14:16‭-‬24

(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke.)

Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
eat the song
smallness
sisyphus
ninety-nine reasons to stay
before you kiss him
shrewd
exitus acta probat
i am thankful
midnight
sense the butcher

sense the butcher

butcher

Violence in the bone
And silence in the stone
Heart at the cry, we are party
To the crime, parting comfort
From the sigh,
“Come and buy, souls for sale,
Discounts for the dregs, wholesale
Bitter pills,
People killed by kindness withheld!”
Weeping filled with findings revealed:
Our hearts.

Our hearts are violence, pestilence.
Restlessness lingers on our lips.
Listen:
Can you sense the butcher in your head?
Lopping limbs from all the dead around you
(Labeled as such, and losing value
By the touch of our tongues and toneless virtue).
Hear ye: “I am here to hurt you.”

Will we always cast out and
Beat down the Named
For the sake of cash cows
And rebranded fame?
It’s by pity the death of the last
Brought us in, and fitting
His breath blew away every sin.

You,
Who hate.
See yourself in that vine,
See you selfishly climb
On the backs of your kin,
Watch the jostle to win.
Now let go and fall,
Frail bundle of bones.
Now cast yourself down
On a Savior of stone.

He went on to tell the people this parable: “A man planted a vineyard, rented it to some farmers and went away for a long time. At harvest time he sent a servant to the tenants so they would give him some of the fruit of the vineyard. But the tenants beat him and sent him away empty-handed. He sent another servant, but that one also they beat and treated shamefully and sent away empty-handed. He sent still a third, and they wounded him and threw him out. Then the owner of the vineyard said, ‘What shall I do? I will send my son, whom I love; perhaps they will respect him.’ But when the tenants saw him, they talked the matter over. ‘This is the heir,’ they said. ‘Let’s kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.’ So they threw him out of the vineyard and killed him. What then will the owner of the vineyard do to them? He will come and kill those tenants and give the vineyard to others.” When the people heard this, they said, “God forbid!” Jesus looked directly at them and asked, “Then what is the meaning of that which is written: ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone’? Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken to pieces; anyone on whom it falls will be crushed.” Luke 20:9‭-‬18

(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke.)

Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
eat the song
smallness
sisyphus
ninety-nine reasons to stay
before you kiss him
shrewd
exitus acta probat
i am thankful
hell on earth
midnight

midnight

midnight

Midnight, O midnight: when will you be mine?
I’m weary of letting my little light shine.
I fear that I’m getting a bit more aligned
With religious nuts everywhere, calling for signs,
With fidgety monks, covered hair, falling in line.
The people You tend to catch aren’t my type.
They’re flimsy and fatuous, less substance than hype.
And then I remember, I’m one of them too.
When I dismember us, I mutilate You.

Midnight, O midnight, when will you be mine?
I’m weary of letting my little light shine.
Lord, all I receive is never my own,
But I’m told: believe, and I’ll give you a throne.
You give and You take and You won’t let me be,
I live and I make and I sow: don’t You see?
If You’re God, the question remains: why not act?
But You’re rocky; You reap Your refrains, and I lack.
Stock up on struggle, heart, leap to the fray,
The One Who will part you is the One Who will stay.

Midnight, O midnight: when will you be mine?
I’m weary of letting my little light shine.
Lord, the work must be done. The light dims,
The fields are rich, and the work force is slim.
I need Your need deeply (You gave me that too)
To plant Your seed freely (true faith comes from You)
When night comes, Your people will sleep as the dead.
I’ll triple Your goodness, then lay down my head
On a breast full to bursting of patience and grace,
And rise in the morning. Oh, lift up my face!

“Then another servant came and said, ‘Sir, here is your mina; I have kept it laid away in a piece of cloth. I was afraid of you, because you are a hard man. You take out what you did not put in and reap what you did not sow.’ His master replied, ‘I will judge you by your own words, you wicked servant! You knew, did you, that I am a hard man, taking out what I did not put in, and reaping what I did not sow? Why then didn’t you put my money on deposit, so that when I came back, I could have collected it with interest?’ Then he said to those standing by, ‘Take his mina away from him and give it to the one who has ten minas.’ ‘Sir,’ they said, ‘he already has ten!’ He replied, ‘I tell you that to everyone who has, more will be given, but as for the one who has nothing, even what they have will be taken away. But those enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them—bring them here and kill them in front of me.’”
Luke 19:12‭-‬27

(Liturgical poetry during ordinary time after Pentecost is inspired by the parables of Luke.)

Words for the Church: Ordinary Time
gold dust prayer
receive
eat the song
smallness
sisyphus
ninety-nine reasons to stay
before you kiss him
shrewd
exitus acta probat
i am thankful