Thursday, January 29, 2015

So, where?


So, where?

Some say it’s the heart
Bleeding, cold,
Throbbing rapidly,
Not judging,
Compassion’s home.

Some say it’s the hands
Strong, caressing,
Tender, trustworthy,
Firm with experience,
Flesh affirming flesh.

Some say it’s the arms
Solid, embracing,
Encircling, open,
A safe place,
Always a sanctuary.

Some say it’s the eyes
Cautious, bright,
Longing, distant,
The surest measure,
Where the answer lies.

It’s the brain
Synapse and neurons
Swimming in chemicals
Sorting out incoming data
In helices and pulses.

It’s biology and chemistry.
Proteins doing what they we built to do.
Not magic.
But no less mystery
In the consummation.


Friday, January 23, 2015

The Light


The Light

The bounding light
A cold chill
A chant, vaporous and sustained
Then a clear voice
Telling me what I’m not prepared to hear.

If this were the 12th century
Yes, the voice of God.
But now I have more options:
Hallucinations, schizophrenia,
Whacked out brain chemistry,
Someone on their cell phone.

Truly I want to believe
Be the Chosen One
Bring the world to its knees
Promising to do better
To give love a another look.

It it’s so, why me?
Why not you?
Maybe the light came to you
But you were not burned by it
And shrugged it off.

But I can’t do that
Yet, or at all.
I liked the music
Felt warm in the light
Even if I’ve yet to catch fire.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Scatter Love


Scatter love
See what grows.
Plant love deep,
See what takes root.
Speak about love,
See who listens.
Tweet love,
See who hears the song.
Make love a duty,
See who signs up.
Light a spark of love,
See who catches fire.
Offer love free of charge,
See who is suspicious.
Make love a feast,
See who goes for seconds.
Make love a surprise,
See who is thankful.
Search for love,
See where it lives.
Ask what love is,
Spend a lifetime answering.

Saturday, January 17, 2015

WWJL



 We consider Jesus to be both God and man. As a man, Jesus had to live in his own culture with its values, politics and struggles. He had to speak in a language that people could understand using metaphors, narratives and parables that made sense to them, even if they could not always absorb the full meaning.

As God, Jesus had to know that his message must be essential enough and expansive enough that it could embrace and have meaning for the human community as each generation of humans moves toward enlightenment and full realization of their potential.

Love is the essence of Jesus’ message. For us, now, this revolves very often around gender, sexual orientation and religious belief. The dialogue is largely about tolerance and acceptance. But this is the lowest level of what love expects.

So then, WWJL?

The Holy Church of Art: Sermonette #5



 Brothers and sisters in art, they look but they do not see. Art is there, though buried deep. They indulge in the surface pleasures: the color that seduces, the instant recognition of the familiar, the guarantee of comfort and safety.

We know that faith cannot be about blind assurance. Mature faith must be anchored in courage, courage to move fearlessly toward a vision whose end is unknown and uncertain but whose motive rages.

Brothers and sisters, dive below the surface. Penetrate the deep. Have faith in your vision. Let comfort be no more than a momentary respite.

Amen

Joy Ride


Joy Ride

Stumble,
Fall on your face
For love.
Get up and fight for it.
Arm yourself
With patience and honesty.
Don’t look in the mirror.
It’s not about you.
Look out the window
On a world
That’s frightened and bewildered,
But where love belongs.
Relentless and sturdy
And always forgiving.

Friday, January 16, 2015

Realistic Love Poems


Realistic Love Poems


Roses have thorns,
Violets don’t last.
Do you think we can make it
Considering our past?


Roses need water,
Violets do too.
I thirst for affection,
But it won’t come from you.


Roses in dozens,
And violets in clumps,
Will ask for forgiveness
And smooth out the bumps.


Violets feed larvae
Roses get beetles
We nag at each other
With our barbs and our needles.

Roses mean love
Violets, fertility.
Your expectations of me
Strain human ability.


The petals of roses
And the violet’s flowers
Speak to me of
This love that is ours.

Role Models


Role Models

When the Gods cohabitate,
Rocking the celestial fields,
They create all of creation.
Should we do anything less?
You scream, “Oh God!” and tell me
This is heaven.
Did we awake to a world we made anew?

The great lovers in myth and history
Were tortured in their love,
Willing to trade now for eternity.
Is their lesson a measuring stick
For our temporal circumstance?
Did we even grab eternity
For the smallest fleck of time?

The Blessed Virgin, rewarded for her trials
As mother, rises from the stable floor
To the Throne of Heaven.
Should I expect less for all the diapers,
Stumbles, wounds and losses
Than a Prince, a son of God?

The glamorous of Hollywood,
Made up and coiffed, meet
In golden light, and kiss.
Then off to bed and into love.
I look into the bathroom mirror,
Hear you snoring, half-naked, unappealing.
Is constancy and tenderness enough?

My parents stayed together,
A loving, working pair.
The world they made was small and warm.
So I grew safe and straight in their garden.
But I discovered a bigger world
And stumbled through it with multiple partners
And a jaded view of love.
Can love be enough if it’s never something?

Thursday, January 15, 2015

journey

journey

glance
stare
dream
ask
touch
kiss
enter
gasp
whisper
sleep
wake
work
wed
dance
bed
seed
birth
cry
giggle
blood
rage
bliss
grasp
release
fail
learn
savor
weep
sing
embrace
pray
fade
die
live


Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Couples in Love


Couples in Love

One…two...three.
Can there ever be enough waltzes?
Couples holding tight to one another’s rhythms.
At breakfast, in the bathroom, in the bed.
Rhythms, sometimes cold and brutal,
Danced to the music of whatever
Masquerades as love.
Time and practice
Makes the dance a dance.
They glide and turn,
Effortlessly,
Spinning into the grave.

Dancing


Dancing

The first dance we danced
Our bodies were at the mercy
Of the saxophone player
The second dance, too,
And the third.

We walked back to the table
Hand in hand,
Our silence seemingly forever.
Not knowing that we were each
Trying to think the other’s thoughts.

The next dance,
Near a year later
We held one another
More tenuously.
It was only a wedding DJ
And a hackneyed song.

I did look deep into your eyes then
And didn’t forget what I saw.
I tracked you down, invited you
For an intentional dance
We did, and finished the night
Dancing in bed.

Love may be a dance,
Holding one another in tight rhythm,
Sometimes wanting to pull back
But staying in for the ride.

Dancing with the kids
Dancing even when we’re apart
Dancing under the covers
Dancing toward eternity.

Monday, January 12, 2015

Why I'm a failure

As you go through life, you hold on to the hope that one day your dreams will be fulfilled, your goals will be reached, you will make it. The the day comes that that you realize you won't make it. You're a failure. This just happened to me, and here's my reasons why:


--No one has offered me a retrospective of my work.

--I don’t have, and never did have, abs of steel.

--I still don’t know how to dress myself with cutting edge style.

--I probably am familiar with at most 2 of the 50 shades of gray.

--Justin Bieber has 39 million blog followers; I have 4.

--I still think drip painting was a bad career move for Pollack.

--I’ve never read Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings or seen any of the movies.

--I don’t care for foods that require more than 6 words to describe them.

--I don’t admire anyone just because they are a celebrity or have power.

--I still think trying to be nice is a virtue.           

Love Poem 2


Whoever you are,
I could love you deeply
Pour buckets of passion
Over your body
To cleanse it.

Whoever you are,
I could think of you
Every moment,
Breathless with love
And eternalness.

Whoever you are,
I could consume stack upon stack
Of hours,
Love dreams billowing
Outward to galaxies.

I could let myself be crucified
To show my love for you
But I could guarantee
To be resurrected
Whoever you are

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Love Poem 1


A siege of pheromones
The comfort of routine
Hormonal disruption
A tightrope walk
The delusion of eternity
A subject to be avoided
Two becoming one
The absence, the emptiness
Muddle
Sugar-coated lust
The most pure thing
Always the answer, Yes
What kept you from drowning
Once