Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Sure as God Made Green Apples

It's what we tell our children.

Get up.

When you fall down, get up.

It doesn't matter how many times you fall down. It matters how many times you get up.

That's why I'm a fan.

There's no struggle in the always winning, so what's the winning for?

In all of my days there have been few greater thrills than a long ball soaring into the left field bleachers, my heart in my throat, my team on the verge, the announcer on the radio cracking with his own disbelief.

The maybe of it all is exactly what I need. That's game.

And for all that I may have to wait, I continue to long with bright eyes and a ready grin.

Because sure as God made green apples, it's gonna happen.

Can you feel it?

A Brief Recap With The Lord

You better have one helluva case, if one is to be made, for your actions. I picture it this way,

"Well, Lord, you see, the gays, they were trying to marry one another and they were trying to hold hands and show one another affection and have cake at their celebrations and have babies and take on all the repsonsibilities of adults in society, so I figured you'd be against all that and I shunned them.

And the illegals, Lord, you see, they lived on a different part of the planet and their countries were not run as well as ours so they had a hard time finding jobs and taking care of their families so they came to our section of the planet and they wanted to live here and work and feed their families and be regular members of society. So I figured you'd be against all that, so I shunned them. I still ate the food they prepared and allowed them to care for my children and employed their lawn service and called them 'amigo'. Then I shunned them.

The environment was damaged by humans, Lord, yes, but I just couldn't do without my car or my gadgets. You see without all the comforts of my civilized life I might have to hunt and sacrifice and live more frugally and be cold or wet sometimes and I figured you'd frown on that so I shunned a more simple life. I was real responsible though and put my plastic bottles from water in recycling bins. I even unscrewed the caps. So, there's that.

And, yes, Lord, the guns did kill people, did kill children. Lots of them. Yes, Sir, your children. But you see, during our wars, Lord, one of us was right about something - I can't remember what now, but we were real sure we were right so we blew up a lot of people because you said, 'an eye for an eye' so we took some eyes. The theater and campus shootings were tragic, yes, Lord, but I figured it was better to keep the guns and you'd be against any rules that might keep us from our guns so I worked real hard to keep the guns. I figured you'd feel pretty proud of me for that.

Yes, Sir, I thought about pink. I didn't support public healthcare or preventative care, or environmental protection, or stricter food inspection laws because I figured you'd be against all that stuff, Lord. Instead, I sprayed chemicals all over our food and invented artificial ingredients and fake pumpkin powder because I figured you'd be happy about that, Lord, and you'd look upon me with favor and reward me.

And I figured you would take care of all those families I allowed to starve, fall by the wayside, uneducated, unemployed, and hopeless, what with you giving the earth to the meek and all, Lord. I figured I was doing kind of a good thing there, and you'd be real happy that I left all the meek stuff to the West Side.

Because I'm Christian, like that, Sir."

Friday, October 2, 2015

Civility in the Wildnerness

We have convinced ourselves that we are not alive in the wild.

We have cushioned and wired and insulated every manner of thing, so much that we have arrived at this false reality with great sure: we are tame.

But we are not. Ask the fallen. We are not.

We plant artificial civility in the midst of a wildnerness too great for our plastics and drink tea in shiny manufactured cups, telling ourselves our beiges and bikes are the cure.

Shouldn't you laugh at that?

In truth we are as muted as we are vulgar and violent and unashamed.

There is as much in the quick as in the dull wit.

Some cannot soar through the towers of books and fame, but still they rise.

There should be place and space to keep us all, though we know that in the wilderness some are injured, some die.

When we squeeze here, the pain seeps out there. We can salve but not erase, it is always there.

The questions I have are these: have we cushioned the right seat? wired the right connection? insulated from the right injury?

I wonder that we might do better to dwell on the rightness of the wildnerness in her natural form, casting the civility for its false promise, so we can know in sun the good just as we embrace the moon, her twin. I wonder if that is not the call of the faithful. To be wild.

Monday, August 17, 2015

If I Could

I had seen the bliss and been in its glory, knew it well.

There! The blur that comes so sweet, intoxicating. I would close my eyes and grin, as I do now thinking on it.

Oh warm and kind love, reaching out for me, surely there would be none to compare. None ever as good.

And then there were three.

And if I could be blessed, washed complete in love ever and again, I was and I was and I was.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

It's Time

We mark twenty years together tomorrow, but really, it has been so much longer.

We were together in the dreams of our childhoods, I know. 

You were the smile in my wist on nights when the torn heart of a teen girl will make her wonder if it'll ever happen. Indeed, it will. 

In fact, I have loved you in all my days, even before I knew you, and still I long to give you more and more and more. I have wanted you for all your faults as much as for the dazzle of your smile or the ripple of your arm around me when we dance, flawlessly now, as old married couples do, and while I'm alive in every moment with you I am, too, dreaming, dreaming as I'd never dared to dream, knowing I can't wake because here I am, in, and with the man of, my dreams and all that could be true for me and more is made right when I am with you. I couldn't ever, wouldn't want to stand away from you any longer than I had to and even then I'd be finding my way to you because together is where we belong. I am no more in faith without my self than I am without you. And in case you should wonder, I know I am the same for you and the poetry I write here is shabby beside the work you spend to provide for my comfort, the worry you wear for my relief; this is the truth in every day. I know it. I always do.
It's why I smile when I remember us twenty years ago, swaying and singing softly to one another. Truly, the world you show me shines and shimmers, splendid, and I could imagine no greater ride than on this magic carpet, with you.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

I Was Stupid on Facebook

I totally blew it on Facebook today. A friend posted a mildly provocative comment about a government program he's clearly not a fan of and I clucked to myself, despite reading a little bias into it, 'He's probably right about that.'

But then I read the comments.


The comments.

By the time I got to the bottom of the thread at 6:45AM, coffee-less and addled with age, I was clear out of my noggin. So I posted a ridiculous rant-comment, not particularly lucid, and I entirely mangled what the original post had been about. I blended comments and post and attributed all badly, then assaulted the intelligence and integrity of my friend: 'Super-Classy? Party of one? Right this way.'

When he, rightly, responded that I was nuts, I re-read my remarks (still coffee-less, BTW - huge mistake), and the comments, and the post, and realized he was right.

Good Lord, did I feel like a banana-head!

And I wondered, 'Why did you get so worked up over something so unimportant?' I left that unanswered and apologized. Twice. Still felt dissatisfied.

Then it occurred to me. I wasn't mad at him or his post or his friend's goofy comment. I was pent-up mad at all the posts and all the goofy comments.

Obama is a Communist!
Obama is a Saint!
The Pope is a Saint!
The Pope is a Communist!
Kittens are SOOOOO cute!

I read so much stuff now on social media sites for work, for liesure, for no good reason at all. And unlike conversation, I can't react right away, say what I think, clear the air between me and someone who may be saying something I think is mean or frustrating. I walk around all the time with these stored answers to these un-questions and un-conversations that are left un-finished. The Pope is a metal-head??

I'm hardly a FB newbie. I know you're not supposed to read the comments. I know if you do you're just supposed to blow past them and scroll to the next cat diary video. I know these things, but somehow I'm still stocking indignance and rant over things that matter nowhere to no one, not even to the people who casually post these things in places where none but a few on the planet ever take even fleeting notice.

So I totally lost it with someone I actually like and think is a cool guy, mostly because I'm nuts. But also, because this new age of communication is making me nuts.

I'm not sure what else to do with that information except to know it and to share it with the public so that if I ever comment on someone's FB post with a three page dissertation on all things liberal-hippie there'll be some context.

So there you have it. I was stupid on Facebook. Poster beware. And look out for the Pope, too. I heard he's a Communist.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

No Word

It was a peculiar sort of pink.

The sort that's grey and pale and blue, reflecting a sun that's dozing on the job.

Not quite twilight.

Too alive to be dusk.

A wisp in the air.

And the water.

The water was glass. Agloss.

There was a freshness in the air, waiting for me.

Like the moment just before
a new kiss, pressing forward, eyes closed.

I was enchanted by this night and its smell of hickory and summertime and I would remember it forever, never quite finidng the word to capture its magic.

Better there was no word to say this was among the last of the days we would all be together, so sweet, so young. We were all growing up too fast.

And now, as then, I am in my favorites floating on the water, beneath the stars and sparkles, remembering that night.