The saint in me is still a sinners son

I look at then

and I see me now

There’s people chanting

standing in a crowd

I wanna join in

try to help them out

But my mouth’s cashed checks

that just seem to bounce

Who be it that you try to believe

Who always turns into a parody

Now brush your teeth and try to behave

They’re all gonna hate you eventually

I look at then

but still see myself

Eyes wide shut

full of fear and doubt

She plucked the fruit

from the apple tree

As I stood staring

still I couldn’t believe

Who be it that you try to become

The saint in me is still a sinners son

Who be it that you try to believe

Now you’re all dressed up living a fantasy

I look at now

like she saw me then

All fed up

fist balled paper and pen

There’s dishes broken

on the kitchen floor

The serpent speaks

in tongues I can’t ignore

Who be it that you thought you saw in me

A break fix and used return policy

Who be it that I thought I saw in you

But what difference does it make there’s an election soon

God and the Devil

Lightening strikes

then

Thunder rolls in

They’re bowling you know

up there in Heaven

— God and the Devil —

Hell I’ll be damned

when God rolls a strike

the Devil chimes in

Bravo, he shouts

dances and spins

now a Turkey I’ll roll

but wait just then

as God bites his lip

his fingers hidden

a Turkey?

How bout, a soul

my friend.

I let me.

God

the places I have known

and the places I have seen

and the places I will see

God willing

God help me

and to think

I don’t care much for God

only as much as he pulls for me

but oh God oh God oh me

what wonders we have to see

if willing, and willing

I let me.

poetry is spam

A large portion of

poetry is spam.

But I don’t eat that stuff,

at least not until I get to see Hawaii

then who knows?

I hear, fried with an egg, it’s good.

When in Rome, you know;

when in Rome.

a beautiful life.

At the end of this life

if you can say

I did some things

I really, really enjoyed

and helped some people

along the way

all the while

laboring loves labyrinth

then that

I’d say

is a beautiful life.

the scenic route!

People always look confused when they ask what I am doing. So I look confused back, smiling, and say, I’m taking the scenic route!

People are more like their God than they think, always looking down at everyone else, wondering what it’s like to live.

I’ll pray for you, they say sometimes. Creation is a messy thing. What’s the difference between prayer and prey?

For now, I guess I’ll be their prey to tell the difference. And when my time comes, confused I will not look, knowing I’ve seen the light.

A light which does not shine but rather illuminates the lonesome weathered Rockies, or Cutlers bountiful Coast, and all those miles of wheat fields traveled upon a harvest moon.

Blame it on God

When something goes wrong
blame it on God.
When something goes right
blame it in God.
When a baby is born
blame it on God.
When a loved one dies
blame it on God.

Blame it on God

blame it on God.

Some of us get God
the rest of us get Cake.