“A Letter Of Unrequited Love”

Dearest S,

It’s time you learned the truth:
I am deeply, deeply in love with you
And have been since long ago

I’ve sent you flowers
And jewels,
Invited you to parties,
But you never came,
Hardly seemed to notice

I’ve written pages and pages of songs,
Just for you
I yearn to sing them,
Just for you

I’ve seen you in the arms of another,
I raged, full of fire and heat
I suppose—even though we’ve never really met
—I’m jealous

When once I thought you’d gone for good,
I wept for days upon days:
A flood of bitter tears
I've taken up painting since then,
Keeps me going thro' the years

I even built a house, perfectly laid out,
Every stone and archway with you in mind
The land it’s on is cut thro’ by a river
And there are vineyards, orchards:
The most fragrant fruit ever
O, the wine we could drink!

I long to kiss you all over
And run my fingers thro’ your hair
While whispering sweet intimacies in your ear

And if ever you should see
Our initials carved upon a tree,
Know this, Beloved—that was me

This letter,
It is finished

With most passionate affection,
JHVH

P.S. I eagerly await your response

"Poiema"

God Almighty wrote a poem
Right words, right order
And in this poem, He wrote my life
Simple though it is
With a new word here and an edit there
Here a noun, there a verb
Every word intended
God Almighty wrote a poem
Right words, right order

We are the Lord’s workmanship
Sculpted by the Word
And in His hands, we shall be shaped
Like a lump of clay
With some spinning here and more water there
Here a pinch, there a squeeze
Ready for the fire
We are the Lord’s workmanship
Sculpted by the Word

The Redeemed, a masterpiece
Wondrous work of art
And on this canvas, God did paint
Colors perfect all
With a brushstroke here and some texture there
Here a dot, there a line
Every shape on purpose
The Redeemed, a masterpiece
Wondrous work of art

We bring glory to His name:
It is why we’re here
For He has remade our stone hearts
O, to trust the Lord!
With a good deed here and a good deed there
Here a prayer, there a hug
Every day, sharing Love
We bring glory to His name:
It is why we’re here

---

adapted from "Old MacDonald Had a Farm"
Traditional (1706?)

"Dadvice: Wisdom From A Beloved Wiseguy"

Think before you speak
Finish what you start
Everything in moderation

Even moderation

Embellish for the pleasure of the listener
Presentation is ninety percent
Kneel to propose
Timing is everything

"Going Into The Tabernacle"

Burned up
Washed up
Lit up
Fed up
Smelled up
Held up

"Yee-haw!"

Pickup truck racing down the road
Swerving left and right
Wasting gas
Hurting brakes
Killing transmission
Cutting off
Stressing out

"King Omybad"

I’m really quite disappointed
Not sure he was even anointed
What is it about this king
That makes everyone sing?

At quadrennial tournament,
He had an impressive tent,
But is he even of noble birth?
Where’s he from, where on Earth?

He cares not for our beloved colors
But marches under the stripes of others
Disregards the Founders Scroll
Though he taught it, I’ve been told

Everyone must go to the apothecary
Or be taxed for all they carry
He wants our swords and our bows
But what of the robbers on the road?

Black-robed puppets on the bench,
Acting on filth, passing out stench
Meanwhile the Guard is silent,
Seemingly ignorant, or maybe compliant

He’s bought all the towns’ criers
They’ve turned their coats, all are liars,
Pushing agendas of their own
Instead of investigating the throne

Royal excursions on the peasants’ dime?
He really has gone too far this time:
Must be reminded whose money he’s spent
When he’s acted without Council consent

Caught red-handed, with enemies consort
Traded five for one of this sort?
Picks blackberries before standing with his men
Where’s the example, who let this man in?

Each mistake piles up and compounds
He has greatly overstepped his bounds
And quite nearly snapped his leash
That’s it! It’s time: give him peach!

"70,000 Hoops"

What is it you need:

A job?

A loan?

A doctor’s visit?

An—ugh—insurance claim?

Here’s seventeen forms
And a roll of red tape

We need your picture
Your fingerprints
Eight forms of identification
And a letter of recommendation

What’s your income?
Are you married?
Do you have kids?
What color is your skin?

Sign the dotted line
And initial eighty times

Only to hear

Maybe

Your case is under review

We’ll get back to you (“soon”)

Sixty days or six to eight weeks
Number thirty-something on the waiting list

Oh so very glad
It’s not the same with God
No hoops to jump
No red tape
(Just red Blood—

already spilled)

All you have to do:
Simply believe
—You’re pre-approved