Poetry Blogs (church)

Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

It has been eighteen years since my last confession.

My hands are trembling

Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

In these last eighteen years, I have failed.

My eyes strain to see in the dark.

Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

I am a compulsive liar.

I feel my stomach churn my breakfast.

Forgive me...

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Selling Christmas Trees and Roman Candles, 1950

My older married brother, Willy, asked Kenny and me if we would like to help him sell Christmas trees. We said, “Sure we would love to help.”

Willy had gone into the woods and cut a number of cedar trees. We were going to sell them out of the back of his old Plymouth station wagon and an old trailer. The NAPA auto store...

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Jimmy would stand in queues

he had nothing better to do

it helped him pass the time

busier than any church pew

he might pick the odd pocket

at girls rubbing and grinning

on Saturday go to confession

confess to a vicar his sinning

mam told him to wrap up warm

made sandwiches for his belly

strange folk he met in queues

impatient grown up and smelly

...

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I lately watched your video, a Palm Sunday morning show of you and your wife.

Me, your mistress, now ashes of passionate fires, forbidden fires.

Intention of sin in your ideology.

And then this scene of an innoscent couple, the ones who try to pretent what they aren't.

More on:

https://cms.e.jimdo.com/app/cms/preview/index/pageId/2140842394?public=https://magicalwhispers.jimdofree.c...

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Music fades away when you arrive
Spreading the doom with every stride
The stare of hatred locked in your eyes
Sinister cravings behind sacred lies

You want me to beg
You want me to look
You want me to bend
And follow your rules

Judging from throne made out of gold
Taken from people that you control
Deep in your cave, the smell of decay
Surrounded by slaves, you feist on their brain

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Charities and the church

The two bodies we should most respect

Are only interested in reputation

Not in the people they should protect.

They hide and conceal

Crimes so heinous we all deplore

Women raped, children abused

Victims too scared to report to the law.

I hold my head and weep a river

For humanity and its darkest shame

How can we stoop so low

In re...

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As I pass beyond my summer wall

Once more the land embraces my spirit

And its silence becomes my prayer

While I and heaven hear

The wind whispered psalm

As dusk caresses the tree tops

That surround my field fane -

I walk slowly through its grassy nave

Lost in my old memories

And pause at the far gate:

The sun sinks low behind me

And my long shadow stretches out in ...

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I step out

Into that mystic choir

That holds my heart

Where time, standing still,

Moves with the seasons

Quietly changing my world

With its elemental tune

While my song is barely heard:

A contrapuntal whisper

Struggling for harmony

For my land is my chancel

Hymns hum soft on its breezes

And prayer rises in its stillness

In this quiet place of remembrance

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We’re not satisfied with one

Even though it’s been good enough until now

No, we need a second one

It’ll be so much better

More in tune with today’s needs

We need to show the younger people

That the Church hasn’t died on its knees

That cold, dark, dusty Churches

Aren’t the only option

Yes, we’re planning a revolution

We’ll sh...

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Flat chimes ring out,

As hammers beat gainst metal forged in mankind’s heat,

Singing village tunes over river and hill,

As sunlight beams burn where mist lingers still.

The call rings out from hamlet village and town,

We are here, know us by this resound,

Like feral packs at bay sounding out,

The familial call of belonging-metal signals about.

Then the bell dance ...

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You:

I walked out on a white world,
I changed within it, as the cold remembered me and let me in.
I stumbled towards the cover of the sky,
And found the corpse suspended in the liquid jar.
I bled onto the soft carpet, and the blotting paper puddle oozed
until it disappeared beneath a new layer of lies.
I was the corpse,
Was I looking at my future or my past?
Nothing...

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We worship the Unholy Trinity,

Our Gods of War demand child sacrifice,

Fresh blood must flow for all eternity,

Wide eyed and shiny booted they’re enticed.

Before the altar of Church, State, Arms Trade,

The top-brass gleam in searing summer sun;

Smart ranks of little darlings on parade,

Think: ‘daddy’s war must have been so much fun’.

If they should di...

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