Matchsticks


 

Matchsticks

There is a stone
upon which
many walls
have been built,

the millstone
around the neck
to which
Jesus referred.

Upon this stone
is inscribed
a Law,
designed to be
a shock collar,

a Law
unequivocal
in its insistence
that every wrong
must be righted
with
Consequences,

a Law
meant to be fueled
by Fear,

and often wrapped
around the
human heart
with the ligatures
at the heart
of religions.

There is another Law
written in
the Foundation of
All That Is,

transcending
walls
and severing
millstones
with Joy that
shatters
Consequences
into dust
beneath the
bare feet
of exuberant escapees
going over
the walls
of Fear,

laughing,
as the Fear fades
into the Light
of the
Law of Love,

which insists that
when it comes
to righting wrongs,

Consequences
are little
matchsticks,

whose only
task is to ignite
the Light of Love,
then fall away
into
ash.

(Photo by Jamie Street; UnSplash)

100-Proof


 

100-Proof

I searched
in vain
for the origin
of this pernicious
phraseology:

“Prepare to Meet
your Maker.”

This hanging
threat of
judgment
that has been
distilled to a
toxic brew and
served to every
Soul,
in one flavor or
another,
sometimes by
fathers and mothers,
sometimes teachers,
often paycheck writers,
and gangs of
preachers.

100-Proof Fear.

The closest
I came to
the roots
of this poison

were planted in a
Garden of Eden,
tended by a
Maker
imagined to be
angered by a
couple
of humans
audacious enough
to smack
their lips
on forbidden
fruit.

I know
a better story,

of a renegade
son,
probably drunk
on Fear,
who fled home
with full pockets,
only to come
shambling
back,
empty pockets
now filled with
pig pen filth,

Prepared to
Meet his Maker,

who came
bearing gifts
of Welcome Robe
and Honor Ring,
and dance
music and
gorgeous
pocket fillers
of every kind.

I wonder if I’m
Prepared To
Meet My Maker
and drink

100-Proof Love.

(Photo by Nathan Dumlao; UnSplash)

Humoresque


 

Humoresque

Do you understand
how free you are?

How determined
your Maker is
to help you
defend your freedom?

How your Maker
exults in the Way
you do This and
not That?

Adores your quirky
little preferences and
odd choosings and
Weirdo ways?

Before you answer
the doorbell and
invite that one in,
with his reversed
white collar,
clutching his
black leatherbound
goldleaf-lettered
Rule Book,
like it was actually
hand-scribed by
your Maker,

determine in
your heart-of-hearts
that you’ll have some
divinely demented
fun
showing your new pal
how delighted
you are to have
an audience for

your Sermon
on the Saintliness of
Surrendering to
the Holiness of the
Heavenly Humoresque.

(Photo from Universal Life Church)

Open Book


 

Open Book

You say
your Life is
an open book,

but,
the question is,
who’s writing it?

Did you imagine
you were meant to
send out invitations,

asking for
submissions to
an anthology,

every chapter
someone else’s version
of your story,
as if their version
must be better than
your own?

Their adventures
more interesting
than your
misadventures?

Their successes
more captivating
than your
did-the-best-you-coulds?

Their hard work
more impressive
than your
slacker escapades?

Did you imagine
you’ll need
an agent
to persuade
a major publisher
to consider your book
worthy of publication?

Sort of like
Jesus making a pitch to
a judgmental God?

I’m thinking of
taking my own
advice:

Write your own book.
Publish it your Self.

(Photo by Yusuf Evli; UnSplash)

Out of Context


 

Out of Context

I change from my
“Lebowski 2024” t-shirt
into a white shirt and tie,

find my King James Bible
between
“Another Roadside Attraction”
and
“Jitterbug Perfume,”
and
ride my bicycle to
First Church of the Open Bible.

My attempt to be
surreptitious is
betrayed by being
the only one
wearing a tie to
Bible Study.

A friendly voice
calls out:
“We play a little game.
Latecomers must give us
their favorite verse,
from memory.”

I’m ready.

“God is Love,
I John 4:8,”
I yell,
lifting my hands.

From somewhere
near the front
a hand and voice
are raised:

“Fear only God,
who can destroy
both soul and body
in hell,
Matthew 10:28.”

My life has been spent
preparing for this.

I rip my tie
from my neck
and wave it
in triumph.

“There is no fear
in Love,
but perfect Love
casteth out fear,
I John 4:18,”
I shout.

All eyes are on me,
a finger points.

“That’s out of context.”

Without words I turn
and walk.

It’s time to take
my Self out of
this context.

(Photo by Aaron Burden; UnSplash)