repetition.

I’ve heard the lie

Keep repeating the lie

And eventually they’ll believe it

So many times

I’m starting to believe it

But people don’t repeat lies

They repeat what they think is true

Even if it isn’t

But especially

When it’s sold to them

Repetition isn’t the problem

Ignorance is

Tyranny isn’t what’s ruining the empire

Laziness is

Not the kind of lazy that doesn’t work

The kind of lazy that doesn’t seek

The truth

Amidst the repetition 

If...

If you’re still looking for God

Let met save you some trouble.

You won’t find her

raising her arms on any Sunday morning.

You won’t find him

dancing in the snow of any mountain peak.

You won’t find them

in any recital of words and liturgy.

Let me save you some trouble.

If you’re still looking for God.

This might save you some heartache.

Some things can never be found

because

they would stop existing

if they were.

moms

Some moms are still with us. 
And some have chosen somewhere else to be. 
Or left this body entirely. 

Some say good riddance. My mom is not missed. 
Some say she's left a hole that will never be filled. 

Some moms are models of trust and inspiration
Some are models of abandonment and selfishness.

Some want to be moms more than anything. 
Some wonder why they ever wished that.
Some consider it their greatest accomplishment. 

Some moms are heroes. 
Some are the villains. 

My mom is Wonder Woman. 
My mom is a whore. 

I've heard it all. The spectrum is wide. 

My mom made me who I am. 
My mom told me the world would be better without me. 
If God is real, why can't I be a mom? 
Why don't my kids love me? 
I live to be a mom. 

I can only say this. 
Every single mom is worthy of our thanks.  

She brought life into his world. 
Raw, pure, brilliant, infinite, extravagant life. Of endless possibilities. 
She carried life.  Delivered life. 

And that is something we should all try to emulate
and be grateful for. 

Especially today. 

one million...

When I was 20

I said

I would be a millionaire

by the age of 25. 

Boy, was I wrong. 

Unless

I wasn't talking about a million pieces of paper

but instead

a million

experiences
conversations
laughs
words heard
words spoken
instances

that matter. 

Which 

is funny.

Why is the dream to collect pieces of paper that don't even exist? 

And not instances - even some boring ones -

that matter. 

forgetting...

Increasingly

Going
Arriving
Climbing
Accumulating
Chasing
Pleasing
Moving
Trying

... 

Forgetting
Ignoring

Being.

dear cancer...

I’ll tell you why I hate you.
I believe that everyone has a story.
I believe there are no bad people, only people who sometimes do bad things
and usually because someone did something bad to them. 

So. 

Who hurt you? 

Who didn’t give you enough attention as a kid? 

Who made you think
pain
terror
fear
sadness
even death
were the friends you’re supposed to hang out with? 

Don’t you know
you are the average of the five
people you’re around
the most? 

That’s not a good crew. 

Who made you think violence and destruction
are the way to make your mark? 

Because

If no one did something awful to you
Why the hell are you so fucking mean
to everyone around you? 

That’s why I hate you. 

Not because you’re mean but
because
unlike the man on death row who never had a chance
and was beaten and tortured as a child
and knew nothing better. 

Which means
I can
in some part of my mind
understand why

You’re mean and there is no reason. 
Is that what evil is? 
But, don’t worry. 
I still hold out hope. 
There is some reason. 

Call me naive
or stupid
but it’s my filter of persuasion

Nothing is bad without a reason
Not a reason as in it will result in good
but a reason as in something bad was done to it

I’m sorry for whatever we did to you cancer
because whatever it was
it must have been terrible
for the havoc you feel you have to wreak on this world in return. 

I’m sorry. 

Now will you please stop hurting my friend?

stop. start.

Stop walking on the wide road. 
Stop waiting for the perfect time. 
Stop wondering if it will work out. 
Stop worrying about the ones who say it won't. 
Stop wanting it all. 

Walk outside. 
Wait for that sunset.
Wonder at it all. 
Worry about missing right now.
Want more of that. 

If it's not now, not here.
What is it? 

a windy one

Why windy and one
don't start with the same letter  
I don't know. 
No, I don't know
why those two don't too. 
Unless
the windy won
the day.
Then it makes cents
but still not much sense
why Y is a word and
a letter
like because and be
a cause
and be.
Just b. 
Do you see
a
c?
Do you feel me? 
No. Know. No. 
We can't feel letters
we can only use them to write
letters
that we deliver with a stamp
hoping our feelings
arrive intact. 
Right? 
Letters
can mean to be mean
or maybe
the mean is the average
depending on how we see them
and feel them
and what is inside our mind. 
If you don't mind
I'll say this: 
and you think god
fits into all of this? 

-rsjm


 

what to do...

[ t h e ] n o r t h [ e r n ] [ o f ] i r e l a n d

It is both a dignity and
a difficulty
to live between these
names,

perceiving politics
in the syntax of
the state.

And at the end of the day,
the reality is
that whether we
change
or whether we stay
the same

these questions will
remain.

Who are we
to be
with one
another?

and

How are we
to be
with one
another?

and

What to do
with all those memories
of all those funerals?

and

What about those present
whose past was blasted
far beyond their
future?

I wake.
You wake.
She wakes.
He wakes.
They wake.

We Wake
and take
this troubled beauty forward.

Tuama, Pádraig Ó. Sorry For Your Troubles Canterbury Press Norwich

and yours.

A friend of mine lost his father to suicide on Sunday morning. So I wrote this poem... 

---

A father took his life
at dawn on a Sunday. 
I've been inspired
to take mine. 
Back. 

How?
Why?  
He did.
Or Kurt
Or Robin
Or Chris
Or Chester
I don't know.

Pills. Nooses.
Bullets. Blood.
It's easy to get caught up in the details. 
And ignore our own...

...Pills.
In their amber bottles
Some plastic
With our names
Some glass
With names from the past
like Coors and Anheuser-Busch

...Nooses.
Like Yann Martel said in Life of Pi
upside down nooses hanging from our necks
Ties. Suits. And work
That never stops. 
Even as the noose
gets tighter. 
We're strangling ourselves
and convincing ourselves
we look good doing it.

...Guns. 
The population
of guns is more than that of people
in this country.
It's growing three times faster.
Appropriate. Indicative. 
Of values. 
And we're surprised?
Innocent minorities. 
Die.
Those who are sworn to protect them.
Die.
Toddlers who think they are toys.
Die.
Our enemies.
Die.
For a moment.
And resurrect.
But we need those zombies.
Because we need more guns.
 

...Blood.
Our soul
is dying.
Our breath
is fading.
The cuts of racism, fear, and hate
have not
quite healed
and
ignoring them
won't heal
them either.
Sadly.
It's safer to ignore the pain.
But we do live
in the land of the brave.

A father took his life and a bit of mine was taken as well. 
And a bit of yours was taken as well.

And yours and yours and yours and yours and yours and yours and yours.

Every pill.
Every noose.
Every gun. 
Every drop of blood. 

And yours and yours and yours and yours and yours and yours and yours.

Someone once said it.
Life runs you
Or
You run life. 

Together. Let's
take ours
back. 

a prayer for voting.

There are people in this room who are voting for Hillary Clinton
    and they can not fathom how anyone could ever vote for Donald Trump

There are people in this room who are voting for Donald Trump
    and they can not fathom how anyone could ever vote for Hillary Clinton

There are people in this room who are voting for neither or not at all
    and they can not fathom how anyone could ever vote for any of our choices. 

Forgive us. 

Forgive us for not only our inability to fathom those who disagree with us
    but for our addiction to our own bias and our insistence on building its walls
                                    higher and thicker                        

Forgive us for tribes. And for privileged egos.
Forgive us for our ignorance, our aggression, our arrogance, and our violence. 

We are infatuated with insults. 
We are enthralled with enemies. 
We bow to fear. 

Violence runs through our veins. 
Indulgence through our arteries. 

We are kingdom people, we say. 
Bring the kingdom of God. 

Though we tend to call out “Crucify Him - or Her”
More than we call out “Father forgive them” 

Forgive us because we are better than this. 
Forgive us because the kingdom of God does not dance with other kingdoms. 
Forgive us because it is already. It has been. It will be. 

It is

Salt and light and meek and peacemaking. 

It is

Do not worry and do not judge.

It is 

Forgiveness of those who have sinned against us. 

It is 

giving to those who need
loving those against us
refusing to say fool and refusing to lust flesh
and having no need for oaths and promises and fact checkers. 

Because the needy and the enemy are us. 
Because the fool and flesh don’t exist. 

Because we are better than this. 
We bear the image of the Divine force of all that is good is this universe 

In us. 

And so do they. 
Yes, even them. 

We are so much better than this. 
And so are they. 
Yes, even them. 

So we fill in an empty circle with a dark pen. 
We bow our heads and place our hands over our heart
We say our prayers and pledge allegiance

To…

To those whom put on the prince and princess costume at Disney World. 

There is no harm. As long we know we are pretending.

There is much greater emptiness to fill in. 
The emptiness of a facade and fake kingdom
With the ground, and awareness, and event of Divine Love. 

May we never stop voting for that. 
May we never stop asking, seeking and knocking on those doors  

Because we are better than this. 
And so are they. 

Amen. 

write on not off.

The story is not

about

A prostitute
A thug
A murderer
A racist
A bastard or bitch

Because the story is not over.

Instead of

writing off

we

write on.

bonus amazing and relevant poem post.

from Ella Wheeler Wilcox in 1914. 

To sin by silence, when we should protest,
Makes cowards out of men. The human race
Has climbed on protest. Had no voice been raised
Against injustice, ignorance, and lust,
The inquisition yet would serve the law,
And guillotines decide our least disputes.
The few who dare, must speak and speak again
To right the wrongs of many. Speech, thank God,
No vested power in this great day and land
Can gag or throttle. Press and voice may cry
Loud disapproval of existing ills;
May criticise oppression and condemn
The lawlessness of wealth-protecting laws
That let the children and childbearers toil
To purchase ease for idle millionaires.

Therefore I do protest against the boast
Of independence in this mighty land.
Call no chain strong, which holds one rusted link.
Call no land free, that holds one fettered slave.
Until the manacled slim wrists of babes
Are loosed to toss in childish sport and glee,
Until the mother bears no burden, save
The precious one beneath her heart, until
God’s soil is rescued from the clutch of greed
And given back to labor, let no man
Call this the land of freedom.

a song

Yeah, I probably complain more than anyone about the lyrics of the songs we sing at church. But, seriously, most of them are terrible. 

So I recently joined in with our interns who were writing their own lyrics. As with most things in life, after I attempted it, I did learn to appreciate what others do a little more. (Since I tried it, does this give me permission to be critical now?)

---

I don’t know where to start
I don’t know what to sing
I don’t know if I believe
That anyone is listening

I do know love. 

I don’t know how we got here
I don’t know where we go
I don’t know how to heal
To stop decay to start to grow

I do know love. 

I don’t know why we throw stones
I don’t know why fear reigns
I don’t know why we crave bombs
And measure our worth by our pain

I do know love

I know it’s light
I know it’s bright
I know there is more than what I see
To this beautiful mystery

I do know love is the voice
That tells me
It’s okay. 
I do know love. 
I'm okay.
I do know love. 

It is good.