December 30, 2008

Convenience Store Clerk Fatally Shot

Convenience Store Clerk Fatally Shot
He reluctantly left a family party to return to work.

This is just two days past Christmas, 2008; a local murder.

I am crying as I read this headline. What tragedy, what pain.

Needless suffering will fall upon a family who loved this youth.

When is the thick skin required to live this life supposed to form?

December 21, 2008

Gluttony and Hubris

Pastor Rick

You sit there so smug
in your Dateline interview
with Ann Curry.
You continue to state what you believe
are morally correct notions of why
homosexual women and men should
continue to be despised.
Continue to be scapegoated by the world.

Just as "good" men of the proverbial cloth
(the cloth which hides their own sins)
continued to state what they believed
were morally correct notions of why
Jewish women and men should be despised.
Were they not vermin, non-human, capable
of the vilest deeds. Thus their suffering
millennia of murder, abuse, belittling, was
deemed acceptable, justified.

Marriage has always been between a man and a woman.
Every single religion says it's so.
It's been this way for 5,000 years; so you say.
And for 5,000 years, give or take, slavery too was
deemed acceptable, justified.

You accuse us of sins against your beloved bible.
Our acts of loving go against "nature."
Man lying with man is an abomination.
Thus we harbor the hate of the world,
condoned by you.

Well Rick, surprise; my "sin" hurts no one,
not even me.
My love for a woman is as blessed and tender,
as Holy and Profound as any human love is.
The coming together of soul to soul, in shared
compassion, and passion,
is no sin. Ever.

But you sit there, righteous, large,
still digesting your too big meal.
Evidencing Gluttony in your entire being;
your outgrown shirt, pants, suit jacket
and huge double chin under your goatee
of Hubris and Gorging.

Your sins will wreck havoc on your body,
will cause your immune system to fail,
will cause your heart to break,
will cause the fire of heartburn in your
God forsaken throat;
and will cause your penis to lay flacid
as you watch the beautiful women
you wish to penetrate.

Your sins will wreck havoc on the body of the world,
will cause hate to be justified,
will cause beatings and death from ignorant fear,
will cause the true gift of Christ and other Masters
to be lost yet again.

December 08, 2008

Pray for Obama

Pray for Obama

I'm telling everyone I can to PRAY each day for Obama;
for his health, his well being, his ability to hold up under
all of this immense pressure; and most importantly,
for his safety.
We who experienced JFK's, Martin Luther King's
and Robert Kennedy's death, the shock and raw pain
of their passing
do not want another fallen Godsent.

A Phone Call Just Won't Do

When I tell them about my pain, my grief, my not wanting to live,
They worry.
Might she take her life? Is it that bad?
They say, Call me anytime. Day or night. I'm here. I'll listen.

Well, that won't do.
It just won't do.
If you knew, you'd know what a phone call lacks.
Touch.

I don't need an ear 3,000 miles or even 2 feet away.
No, I need an ear here.
Close. Connected to a body. Right next to me.
Touchable in physical reality.

I've not had physical intimacy for near 3 years.
Not sex, which has been absent even longer;
But touch. Human, intimate touch.

Hugs help, but they're much too brief. Even long,
heartfelt bring each other in hugs. Still too brief.
Charlestown Rhode Island, summer of 2007, lying next to Lydia,
close, listening to her story of how she opened her heart to Lizi.
This was good; it helped greatly; but still lacked intimate touch.

Holding a face, a body, a hand, a foot, for long minutes, even hours.
Skin to skin. The exchange of comfort. The feel of another's skin.
The give and take of shared time and space.
Shared here and now.
Holding. Touch. Physical intimacy.
Babies die without it.
Adults too?

December 02, 2008

Thank You Miss Rosza

Thank you Miss Rosza

The nights that I must drop something into
our park's common waste bins,
dog do or my kitchen scraps, my habit is then
to find the nearest rose,
pick some petals, ones you would pick anyway,
smash them between
my fingers and the palm of my hand,
then hold them all to my nose
and d e e p l y, s l o w l y, smell.
(I believe that flower petals were the world's
first Kleenex.)
After picking the petals, I would always say a
Thank You Blessing
to the rose. Something from my heart.

Tonight I picked, smelled, and continued walking;
but 20 or so paces later I realized that I had not
thought a Thank You Blessing to the rose.
So I went back.
And stood there just looking and appreciating this rose,
with several dozen blooming flowers. Beautiful, elegant.
A floribunda.
Pink. Delicate smell when rubbed.
I gave appropriate appreciation and Thanks to her.
I appropriately acknowledge her gift to me, to the world.

As the Neville brothers sing Thank You Miss Rosa (Parks).
Let us give proper appreciation and Thanks to her the Mother
of modern civil rights. She sparked a pent up need for Justice.
The song acknowledges Rosa's gift to the world.
I can't but help think of this song as I acknowledge the Rose.

Is acknowledgement the same as appreciation?
Thus the same as gratitude?
Thus Holy?

Let us continue to acknowledge, give thanks to the things
we take for granted.
The rose (rozsa), the wool sweater keeping me warm,
The difficult struggle to be seen as equal, to comprehend
that We Are All One.
The Greater God, the Creator of All Things, properly She.
Let us never forget to be grateful, never forget to acknowledge.