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It is not lost on me That I was sent away during holy times First, when we anticipated hope and light Born into the darkness Cast out among celebrations Of joy and peace and love. Is it not lost on me That I returned to find nothing but callousness A strangeness in the air that…
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When the shepherd is a wolf The sheep will never be at ease. It won’t matter how he tries to hide To comfort, to appease. The sheep might stop their stamping Cease their fretting and their cries They might become accustomed To his teeth and yellow eyes But the sheep will never trust him Never…
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If you want to cry at church You better do it in a dark corner Since seeing your tears upsets the people Who are there to feel good about themselves. If you want to cry at church You better do it in the back row So you’ll be far away from the pastor And won’t…
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When they pierce you, the needle goes in straight That’s why it hurts when you twist a corkscrew through the hole Even after you’ve healed. Amazing how far your scars can stretch When tested by a thicker bar How your body will adapt and form A brand new shape for your updated adornment. Harder though…
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I don’t take my kids to churchIt’s not a place I want to beFor ministers protect themselvesAnd not once protected me. I don’t take my kids to churchIt’s filled with gossip and with liesAnd loose-lipped friends who mean wellBut end up being spies. I don’t take my kids to churchI’d rather teach them to be…
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I have tried to avoid it The burning bridge at which I stand Which you continued to ignite Without a thought or plan What you would do when the fire Started spreading through the reeds How the flames might consume you As your callous, careless deeds Have consumed my thoughts for ages At your words,…
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Much of this post was taken from an earlier post of the same title, which can be read here. Since walking the Camino de Santiago, I have had additional thoughts about Mary, and wanted to share something slightly different about her this Christmas. One of my favorite Christmas albums was recorded by Roger Whittaker, and…
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Who were you, Gramma Garlets Before the photographs were packed away Stored for safe keeping in a banker box Which smells as old as what it holds When I lift to lid, to wonder? What stories would you tell me If you were here with me Instead of these leftovers Papers and folios and snapshots…
The Quick and the Dead
Short stories. Creative experiments. Ideas that might not pan out.
The Quick and the Dead 