it was by itself
all other crumbs had made-it-out
it was at the bottom of a jar
crumb’ ing it alone
a nonpareil
a colored 6 point painter’s dot from some donut’s top
it had forever been an adonizer
that was life
an adonizer among other adonizers
there is a scripture
one that I’ve been noting since youth
Jesus talks ’bout family disunity. due
to Him.
“Father divided against son…” and vice versa and
etcetera
my dad and I were at odds, sometimes
my sons and I are in a static state of estrangement
my oft-expressed Christianity is at the root
alternately
it could be my Leukemia
it’s since then that things have gone awry
it could be my yet to be legal daughter-in-law
she is a peerless fomenter, a titmouse or bushtit, yapping the Onondaga’s
yelp and whoop of war dances
regardless
it’s Jesus
He’s at the root
He’s hated.
He says we’ll be hated too,
on account of Him
why is that
sin
check the synonyms:
offense
err
immorality
peccancies
foibles
predilections
and the like
we all have these tendencies
it’s why death arrives
we all can Confess
we all can avoid liars
thieves
coveters
idolaters
let’s do
in hopes they someday change and
pray we are not subjected to the final test. and, yes,
we can pray more
and pray more
and pray even more
that a messenger
an angel
a stranger, even, arrives
to fill them in on
just what the Good News is
otherwise
such ones,
even our children,
our father’s
mothers
must be left to themselves
to stew in the brine of haughtiness
an hauteur bubbling in warm relish and rose water. a
supercilious and heuristically minded flounder.
I used to be sad
now
I’m just movin’ ahead
what a “long strange trip it’s been,”
from hopeless to hope-filled.
that first bump,
is inertia’s blast into eternity
gishi bian
2:59 am mst usa
10 septiembre 2018
Doris, she came back with some Braunschweiger liverwurst spread.
Lot’s of protein, Harry.
Sure is, Clark. Where is Doris?
Right here, Harry Darlin’, whatcha need? (she says from a pace or two away)
Nothing, Shoog. Just checking.
What you watchin’?
Fantasy Island reruns.
That Ricardo Montalbán. He’s my fav.
More than me, Doris?
Oh, no, Harry. Nothing is more than you! (she’s in the same room)
Have a sit, Doris.
I think I will, Honey. I will. (she sits on the couch)
try stopping
try hearing
try going mad
try getting on the Jesus horse to heaven
there is no other way
except for the ways of futility. or keep
beating your horses.
A song about showing me how: Build My Life – Peyton Allen
fin
Yellow Rose (of Texas) Publications
“Blessed are the poor.”
