Tag Archives: NaPoWriMo 2015

When Cows Come Home

 

cow come home

The ranch-bound bovines, in dehydration,
yet wary of Kool-aid, declined to drink.
They grazed in wonder, cowed rumination:
where does “beef” come from?  A herd tends to think

of pasturage, water, and basic needs.
Ranch-hands assured them all was in order;
privileged guests enjoy the finest  feeds.
Cows, content on this side of the border

try Buddhism, yoga—or simply gaze…
though things in the distance loomed ominous
(those lots at the edge of the well-hoofed ways)
and a stench wafted into their consciousness.

Calves frolicked on while bulls mounted heifers—
dreamed vegan dreams as they nibbled grasses
some earned doctorates, others went clubbing;
all loosed sustainable methane gases.

Soothing their calves with fables and stories
where cows are the measure of pastured life
they deflected the gist of the young ones’ queries,
affirming that Truth means avoidance of strife.

“It’s best to just graze. Don’t ask questions dear.
We’re on this planet without any clue.
We evolved. From just what is a little unclear—
but Cow Science has proved that it’s true.”

 

 COW IMAGE: wallpapersus.com

 

 

Scaffold the Sky

 

babel-tower1

A tower of Babel may to its Builders’ Eyes seem to hide its Head in the Clouds, but as to its reaching of Heaven, it is no nearer to that, than the Earth on which it stands.— It is thus with all the Buildings of Man’s Wisdom and natural Abilities in the Things of Salvation…  [William Law]

Executives manage things their own way
deciding, planning how all ought to be;
rarely heeding what their underlings say
even when it’s phrased deferentially.
These driven alphas earn corporate pay,
drive data in fast-lanes to fantasy.
Invested in dreamworlds—they’re underway
the vision projected methodically.
They dwell above the plebeian rabble
who toil to raise their capital towers –
and wonder, watching them rise like Babel:
was Nimrod sold out to foreign powers…
or was he building a global village
high on low motives, hubris and pillage?

 

 

 

Paint Saul as St. Paul

 RublevPaul1

Who met him in rage on the road to Damascus?
Must readers accept him as chosen and true?
Is he feigning his motives? And why would he ask us
to value his vision defending the new…

Did he really know Christ as the risen redeemer?
Just who was that light that so blinded his eyes…
At times he appears a fanatical schemer
purveying confusion in heavenly lies:

A madman supplying pure Hellenist sophistry :
scribal subversive, apostle of doom
bedazzling converts with holy philosophy
utterly absent from that upper room.

It takes all my faith to accept him as credible,
lost in his phrases, he sounds demagogic.
His letters are labyrinths: barely accessible
maddening mazes of Levantine logic.

Christ chose twelve others to play out their part.
They affirmed His reality, mission and worth.
This mad interloper came late to the start
of the race—then ran to the ends of the earth.

In his  zeal, over guilt for the mess he had made
I sometimes suspect he was trying to atone
(as he preached to the mobs from his colonnade)
for his errors—by doing it all on his own…

The gap is so wide between Paul and the Gospels
but blessed is the mind that can bridge the divide.
From twelve to thirteen we amend the apostles
that Christ over all may preside.

 Giovanni Paolo Pannini, Apostle Paul Preaching on the Ruins
Giovanni Paolo Pannini, Apostle Paul Preaching on the Ruins

Tulips for the Fire

TULIPfire

God arose and wrung His hands:
“Those Calvinists have got it wrong.
My will is shackled by human sin
and the chains are far too strong.

I gave them all free will—it’s true…
some choose to scorn my sacred Word.
I guess I don’t know what to do;
their human plans are undeterred

while my designs are all aborted;
no more need for intake lists.
My plans made void, my Truth distorted
by crypto-hyper-Calvinists . . .”

Distressed by celestial impotence
His angels wept and veiled their faces;
for there is nothing God can do
when man His perfect plan effaces.

The Lord continued, in His sorrow
acknowledging ineptitude:
“I’m guilty and my outlook’s narrow
in other words: I’m screwed . . .

Man is king—while I, poor servant,
exist to bless his mortal dreams.
Genie of the Bible bottle,
I facilitate their schemes.”

God sighed. “Oh that my wisdom could
redeem the lost, and punish sin
but I’m unable to get through.
(Besides, I’m semi-Pelagian.)

Humankind can vote me out,
fashion me anew from clay.
I will evolve to suit their fancy
growing with them day by day.

I want to help them— but it’s hard.
I just can’t do predestination.
Mortals twist my righteous plans
into abomination.

I’m no rigid righteous Sovereign—
don’t believe that Puritan hype.
I’m your life coach, here to offer
motivational tripe.

I’d love to finish what I started
but humankind won’t acquiesce.
First I need to ask permission
so our plans might coalesce.

Calvinism misinterprets
My essential need to please;
(sinful self-important twerplets—
ignorant of my unease…)

Tulip-breeding Dutch reformers
Sottish lairds and heretics
Presbyterian misnomers
reading the Bible for kicks

will never comprehend my purpose.
I am sworn to placate Man!
Offering my selfless service,
I’m doing the best that I can!

So burn a candle, say a prayer.
Let me prosper, help and bless you.
Intervene? I’d never dare.
I’m mainly here to confess to.”

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