New Theology

God has always been a busy one

With a mischievous streak  infinity long

The big bang was his firecracker

And we are still living in it

The expanding universe

We are drifting away from each other

And from ourselves

Our atoms are spreading out

Soon we will be much bigger

And more empty

And God will be as busy as ever

Hearing prayers

That he doesn’t have time to answer


I clapped a mosquito to blood and wings and insect entrails

My joy at killing it at once replaced by revulsion

Still I will sleep more soundly,

Having committed this murder

And should another mosquito

Sing to me

I will applaud  

The Jaguar

Shinning black, wading through the long grass

The jungle shudders wherever it passes

It has on occasion clawed the air to shreds

So thick was it with tension 

None off the other eyes in the night

Will meet its flaming gaze

Even from a distance

Even in their dreams it stalks them

They have heard the cracking bones

Of their friends and lovers and children

And left them to die screaming

And become new nightmares

Quietly the jaguar sleeps on a branch

Its tail a loop beneath it

A noose to any challenger



Lord another song for thee

Rises like smoke out of me

Golden smoke that wafts above

And is as soft and warm as love


Though scattered till airy clear

It matters not, I know you hear

I know even the silent prayer

Finds you in your everywhere


In the silence where we meet

You raise me from my knees to feet

And set me on a path so true

Where all I know is love of you


On the path we are never apart

As we walk to heaven’s heart

And step by step I shed my sins

On the path where heaven begins






I Am

I am here

I have always been

I am all you see

Yet never seen

I am the word

On the tips of your tongues

I am the breath

That fills your lungs

I am the fire

You feel when you kiss

I am the pressure

In the belly of the abyss

I am the night

When the day is done

I am the heat

In the heart of the sun

I am the swells

Of oceans deep

I am the joy

That makes you weep

I am the mouth

That breathes the wind

I am the truth

No lie can rescind 

I am your constant

I am your whim

I am the flame

No water can dim

I am your rise

I am your fall

I am the light

That illuminates all

I am the first ray

Of breaking dawn

I am the cry

Of a babe just born

I am the view

from the top of the hill

I am the place

You go to when still

I am the moment

When all becomes clear

I am the love

That brought you here

I am the rain

That quenches the fields

I am the harvest

That patience yields

I am the roots

That anchor the tree

I am the end of infinity

I am the stillness

Of starless space

I am forever

Behold my face



The words trembled as he read

Fearful of his gaze

And moment he lowers

His finger to guide him

They know he is ruthless

That many of them won’t survive the edit

That the word next to them or themselves could be next

He has wiped out thousands of them already

Whole paragraphs at a time

Phrases that were born together

Have died together,

Consigned to oblivion

Never to be writ again

Those who make it are grateful

And do the work of the departed  

As well as their own

Such is the price of immortality

Flawed Almighty

Say my name with every prayer

Close your eyes and I am there

Remember me on your knees

I am the one you’re born to please

I am your God the one, the true

With all the vices I forbid in you

Know your place! Question not!

Give me the only life you’ve got

Put no other before me

Forsake the now for eternity

The Divine, especially in a religious context, is often portrayed as vengeful, jealous, greedy, and forbidding.  In other words, with characteristics unbecoming of a holy person, let alone a supreme being. This, I believe, is mankind projecting its own flaws onto the universal parent figure, namely God.  

The above poem was written from the perspective of such a God.  It was not intended to offend (though it surly will) but to show how hypocritical such a view of the Divine is. For how can the divine expect of us what it itself is unable to achieve?

Some might argue that the Supreme Being is above its own laws. I am, however, willing to bet that they would also claim (though less vehemently) that we were created in the image and likeness of God. Does that mean that we are likewise above the laws of God? Or that we should strive to rise above our own often flawed nature? And, if so, should we not also hold our views of God to a higher standard?


Modern Poetry

Classical poetry was a symphony

A ballet where every movement was timed

And every word knew it’s place

Modern poetry is a free for all

A rock concert with stage-divers

And mosh pits, breaking out in the crowds

Inevitably, someone in the stands lights a fire

And starts throwing chairs into it,

Claiming it is part of the poem

Feedback blasts all over the place

Instruments are smashed to bits on stage

And rioting and the looting

Are likewise part of the poem

So is the streaking

And the sex out in the open

While the conductors baton is rising and falling

To this new music made without a sound

Goldfish Memory

Your name is gone the second it is uttered

And to ask it again now would be more embarrassing

Than admitting I forgot it latter

Hopefully someone within earshot will say it

Before I have to address you directly

Meanwhile I will call you you,

Hope you don’t catch on,

And hardly pay attention to what you are saying 

As I try to recollect the name

That I wasn’t listening to in the first places

Assured it must be swimming somewhere in my mind

Like a goldfish in a bowl