Cavernous Mouths

 Cavernous Mouths

(“Their eyes bulge out from eating so well; their hearts overflow with delusions.” Psalm 73:3)

And so the evening crashed upon the heads of those
sitting in the sun. The horses were weary,
the helicopters queried the air like locusts sawing
the late autumn corn.
Everything was torn by cavernous mouths opened
to consume the meals set for the upper crust. Wine flowed
even after the rusted plumbing creaked in pain.
The aristocracy lived on cream and strawberry liqueur.

It was all too common to watch the working class
buy barley desert at a day’s wages a pound.

And so the walls of the palaces, stone-washed and
monolithic, rose like steeples, soared like crossbows,
imitated fighter jets and
stood like armament. Outside the gardeners sweat to
keep the imported shrubs shorn;
inside nothing was gained, nothing was created, nothing
was born.
Only richer recipes to keep the opulence pop-eyed,
the dining hall stocked with exotic past-times. But the

Future prophecies reversal. The
magnificat sings of leveling. The meek inherit
what the mansion dwellers only rented.

And then, in one final display of grace,
the playful poor will invite the rich
to dine with them,

Once they have checked their waistcoats at the door.

Why Don't You Go Back?

 

Why Don’t You Go Back?

(“’You aren’t from Galilee too, are you?’ they replied. ‘Investigate and you will see that no prophet arises from Galilee.’” John 7:52)

Where do you come from, and where have you been
to tell us how to shape our mouths and keep our souls clean?
On the backside of the desert
only the sandstorms speak
of decaying sunlight.
How do you claim to know anything despite
your nowhere dirt roads with pebbles in your shoes?

Where have you been, and why don’t you go back
to your own shanty town. Rehearse your
sermons
for the horned toads and serpents.
We have heard all we need to know,
our minds our full and refuse to be confused
by your small-water mouthfuls.

Where is your hometown? We cannot find it
on the map. What is your pedigree, where is your
divinity degree? Why do you disagree with every
law we have coveted for so long? If you are right,
then we are wrong
and we cannot fathom anything more permanent
than our wallpapered temples at the center of power.

What is your language, share with us your alphabet.
Why do you think you can speak to us like that?
We have gathered, we have met
and our conclusions prove you are a threat
to all our preconceptions.

We cannot believe that you have not been
arrested yet.

Tear it Down

Tear it Down

(“I know your works, your love, faith, service, and endurance, and that your last works are greater than the first.” Revelation 2:19)

The world’s gone insane, and those who wrap themselves
in Jesus’ name,
and God’s love,
and speaking in tongues,
and knowing the hymns

Did not shudder when Clayton Locket writhed
43 minutes
on the table after injected with
the trinity dose of death the state bought from
pharmacologicals who don’t mind making a buck off death.

Not only did they not shudder,
when the story was told one study around
a table
so quickly the mouth opened “And how long did
his victims suffer?”

And the thunder came down, and the lightning bruised the sky
from top to bottom,
the tombs opened and saints walked the earth when the Son of God
in

Agony

Suffered for sinners: murderers, thieves, hypocrites and big-mouths
like me-like you
who
can’t keep our mouths shut long enough to consider

What is it Our God Would Do? And who want to change history
to prove how we’ve always been Christians from shore to shore,
and from one border they want to double-wall, and the other
northern where scary Muslims arrive.

And yet Jesus went out of His way to talk to Samaritans,
And Jesus chose Paul-the-terrorist for His team,
And Jesus told Peter to put down his sword,
And Jesus is called the Prince of Peace,
And Jesus blesses the peaceMakers as His children.

And, yes the victims suffered, no question about that. But, you
who want your Second Amendment guns, why don’t you also desire
no punishment to be cruel or unusual; clear as the militia mentioned in
Constitutional script.

Cover it, Cover it with compassion. Die to self, don’t lie to self,
and let the walls come crashing that we
rebuilt shortly after Jesus ripped them down,
tore them down bare-knuckled, with bleeding hands,
the wall of separation that kept man from man,
land from land, and made the 2 into 1 (have you not read?)
You were never commissioned to rebuild it again.

Tear it down, tear it down with compassion. Die to self, don’t lie to self,
and let the arms receive the worst offenders in the same arms spread
across the lumber for you and I.