Poem: Slipstream

It is obvious now that I have left the dream.
You my friend with all your hip have lost the slipstream.
No matter how you break it down this I know for sure.
You are in need even more of my most remedy cure.
So I shall give you a taste of this most humble pie.
My hope is that it will wake you up from this lie.

I was never your friend nor enemy despite these feelings.
You most intensely have felt both but no mater our dealings.
I know we would have been big but if our egos were submit.
This happens I am sure because of the flow that goes to the pit.
I speak no lie now for that truth manufactured has been built.
All seemingly part of one hyped and elaborate but soiled quilt.

The stream is now done and the sounds of silence won.
For no matter how you spin this tale it is so very done.
In the aftermath one thing is for sure your now in the zone.
I wish you all the best no matter how short lived the throne.
I have from this learned that no matter what will be said.
I am responsible the most for my part on this giant misread.

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The Gardener’s Flower

There once was a garden. In this garden grew the greatest flower anyone knew. It had become the center of attention for anyone who came and saw it. It’s bright colors made anyone lose their breath. The garden belonged to an old man who after a long life taken to becoming a great gardener and he had great care for the garden especially this flower. Deep down it was a reminder of the one that grew near his home as child. He remembered his mother taking long walks with him to visit it. When she had finally passed away he dug it up and planted it near her grave.

One day long after he started his garden he once again found it in the wild and decided to dig it up and grow it in his garden. While there were a few of these flowers in his garden there was one in the middle that grew so big that he personally began to take extra care for it. The flower gave him great comfort to see it every morning. No doubt he loved all of his garden but it was this particular flower gave the greatest joy.

One day a stranger came to town. He visited the garden because he had heard it was the most beautiful around. When he got there he was even more amazed to see that the garden was indeed greater than that, it was most beautiful one he had ever seen in the whole wide world. So after coming to see the garden three days in a row he asked the gardener if he would ever desire to sell it to him. The gardener with much shock said he knew he was old and could no longer care for it. He was indeed making plans to live with his daughter in another village. He with much heartfelt love said that he would be willing to sell his garden but that the flower in the center, the one he loved the most he would not nor could he sell. The stranger told him that it was indeed the flower in the center that made the garden so complete. That without it the garden would be indeed fare more regular. When the gardener heard this he realize that it was true and that to separate the flower from his garden would be a terrible crime so he told the stranger no to the sale and the man left angry.

After a few days the stranger decided that if he could not have the garden that no one should. So he crept in one night and with his torch burned down the whole garden but before he left, he took the flower in the center. As he made his departure he locked eyes with the gardener coming out of his house. The tears of sadness that came from him as he saw the true face of the stranger made the even the stone cold heart beat. The love of the garden he had especially for the flower that the stranger now had made him faint. Away the stranger fled to local inn he was staying.

It took only two more days before the stranger’s shame took him. Filled with great remorse he then went to the store to buy a pot and planted the flower. He then took a pen and paper to write his last will and testament. The next day when the inn’s maid came by she saw that the stranger had surely hanged himself. The note she read instructed that the flower be returned to the gardener and to tell him how sorry he was. Later that day when the local bailiff came in he realized that the flower in question belonged to the gardener who reported it stolen. The bailiff had such great rage for the law was broken as well as the gardener’s heart. The bailiff had no sympathy for the stranger and on the next day he delivered the pot he lamented he himself could not take the strangers life himself. The gardener whose utmost desire to create and grow said the bailiff that the man’s crimes were undeniable and that while deserved to be punished he also felt sadness at his passing. So the bailiff told him of what the note said to which soon after the gardener asked of where the stranger would be buried. The bailiff told him true that no better place for criminal and stranger then the potter’s field.

So the next day the bailiff showed the gardener of where the stranger was buried. The gardener then pulled out the flower and proceeded to plant it next the the thief’s grave. Tears of sadness came as he then said a prayer for the dead. He then sang a song and after he had done this the bailiff asked why he would plant the flower at the grave of a man who stole it from him. To which the gardener replied simply sweet.

All men deserve death for their sins but I forgive him. Even the ones who wrong us most deserve the love of God’s mercy the most.

After he said this the bailiff asked him why he cried for the man who took so much away. To which he once more replied

Worst then losing my garden to fire is that the man who did it decided to destroy his life from that guilt. Also how fitting it is to plant the same flower at another stranger’s grave.
My mother was once a stranger to God but in his grace he showed her his face and it led me to him. I can only wish the same for the stranger. If nothing else it always be a reminder to me that even the worst of crimes deserves the love of a Gardener

The gardener then left the town and went to his daughter’s house. After one year the bailiff had been given a word that the old gardener had died. He then came to the town and to his grave where the gardener’s daughter was sitting there. He came with another flower much like the one the gardener had. He planted it at the grave and the daughter asked him if he knew her dad. He said I knew him yes and then he told her the story as he knew it. He said

Let this flower be a reminder to you and to anyone as it was for me that even in death the beauty of life can be seen. For it has become a symbol for me. You see I was a stranger to God’s mercy and love but your father showed it to me. So I hope anyone can seen that was stolen can be returned and those once strangers to God can be consider his kin.

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Poem:The Wandering Ranger

Some might ask me what does it mean to be a Wandering Ranger?
Surely nothing more than being a stranger
who must now find peace in nature.

Yes I love this beautiful creation
but I seek it now out of frustration.
For just as Tolkien’s sons of Arnor
I have been ever so keen to explore.

Lord grant me mercy for this road I must tread.
I am indeed wandering this world looking to be fed.
For it is my lot in this life to find no place to call home.
Indeed I seek it only in the holiest tome.

What purpose does it for me find favor.
In a world run by a terrible slaver.
Hear me now one cannot two masters serve.
The one of heaven is certainly not of this earth.

Fads and foolish trends do I lament.
When inside the church they find cement.
I am only reminded of what was that pure faith.
That most holy thing now gone only left a wraith.

Give me grace from above as I start this path.
Things have been done that will have an aftermath.
No longer silent can I be about this charade,
Oh my heart is burdened with how many swayed.

So a ranger’s life I now have finding solace in the wild.
Most certainly it seem evident ever since I was child.
I tread ever on the trail finding shelter in the ruins.
Of what most certainly was the church’s undoing.

My sadness is for the bride
and her ever troubling slide.
When she courts the wisdom of men
she so ever abandons the love of Him.

I am now but a mere image of the man
who so faithfully felt part of this clan.
I seek a place where my faith can grow
destined for isolation like Thoreau.

So I wander on with no bed to lie on
Ever so waiting for the rise of dawn.
Wanting only to let your light show me the way.
Until that prophesy is fulfilled on the last day.

Why People Don’t Get Religion

But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.

1 Corinthians 2:14

“The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.”

― G.K. Chesterton, What’s Wrong with the World

Whether you know or not the people who fail to understand religion are the same people who fail at speaking on it. Religion is a topic that either intimidates people or even worse makes them feel qualified to speak on it. It either is a burden to people who struggle with getting the point or it inflates their ego which is only boosted by the amount they reduce from it. Religion is a fine wine that can only be discussed with people who have a mind for it. It is not a slam its an objective fact.

Part of the problem with openly discussing religion is that it either invites simple minded people to dismiss it or reduce it. I recently found this out the hard way once again. The truth about this topic is that makes one go crazy when confronted with this fact about people who constantly don’t get religion.

Unlike topics like your favorite movie or sports team, religion demands you know the facts of it. People often make the false assumption that religious discourse is just opinion but it is not true. Your reason for liking the Miami Dolphins or My Big Fat Greek Wedding is based on your subjective take on the material. Art can cause a subjective reading and it can be justified to a degree. However, your taste has little to do with objective and clerical facts. Whether you like Mass in Latin or English is immaterial to what official doctrine of the Roman Catholic Church is. Folks often assume that because you have a subjective opinion on why you dislike something that somehow how things in regards to religion is subjective. For example you may like how Mormons focus on family. That is an opinion but you cannot deny that Joseph Smith took the Book of Ra and renamed it the Book of Abraham. You may think it is wrong for churches to spend money on buildings than using for the poor. That does negate that Calvinists believe in double predestination. Often times people take their skewed opinions and make it equate things it should not. Whether you regard yourself religious or not there is a proper way to speak on matter because we can’t make up facts and claim things that simply are not true. I understand why we have this problem it is a by product of the Enlightenment and American individualism. People equate what they think and believe that it means all things must submit to it. It is a virus of the mind that causes people not to understand how express proper ideas. On top of that you add the technology and social media which creates more people thinking that opinions in particular their opinions matter more than objective truth. I may not agree with Buddhism but does not grant me to say things that are not true.

Religion is something that people often mischaracterize as well. For example they may say they are not religious or that they do not like to talk religion but then often speak about why they dislike organized religion. This stems from people thinking that religion only means talking about what your church believes. No wonder people often think wrong things about religion, like how it causes divides. Religion only divides because people disagree, that is not because religion to succumbent to opinion but often some speak false and others speak truth. Even if I am not a Muslim I know there is orthodoxy and heterodoxy in that religion. People disagree because one is either reducing or reinventing. Truly the problem with religion is that some fervently uphold it and others want to reinvent it. Even if you disagreed with that concept you still have to admit that even something like sports can divide people. We never hear people say “I can’t talk about sports because it divides people”. The truth is that people know even if instinctively that sports is a subjective thing. You like your team for relative terms. Also people subscribe or reject to authority in sports and that’s the heart of the matter.

Religion demands loyalty and faithfulness and often people want to break away from that. I would even admit that as my religion indicates that it is our sinful nature that causes this. People reject or want to redefine or objectify it. When people’s whims are culled by truth or authority which speaks for truth it drives us to be angry and insufferable.

In the end what matters most is to find those who can understand this and ignore those who can’t. It essentially comes down to world views and whether you deny objective authority in truth. Like I said I recently found this truth to be evident again. The people who often disregard or poorly give its rightly needed scholasticism it becomes utter cringe.

Poem: the Beast’s Last Meal

I woke one morn to find a strange thing at my door.
A beast so foul and mean oh the things he ate.
I let him in my door and into the center of my hearth.
I first fed him but meager bits but his appetite grew so big.
He demanded more and more each day I woke.
As if I were the pet and he the master.
Soon he growled so loud I’d but one choice to kick him out.
The beast did take on last bite from me.
The bitter taste of it made him spit out all he ever ate.
The poor and pathetic thing retched so sadly.
I had but one choice to leave it be.

Poem: Cursed

I fight I fall, I forget I repeat.
Damn this cycle and its scars
Nothing more I would like now then to live on Mars.

I search I seek, I sunder I pleat.
I once again find these czars
who do become my prison guards.

I lose I lament, I leave I skeet.
Cursed I am for nothing can I escape
but to live this shit and cry.

I be damned I be denied, I do doubt I am cursed.
So be it may I find my hearse
can it be my freedom finally disperse.

Poem: Real For Fake Sake

The Fakest Thing I have ever seen
is a person claiming to be a real king.
The truth is nothing more than a show prop
All given for the sake of pomp.

What foulest sin did I trespass with?
Surely nothing more then shouting out the pith.
For nothing more saddens my heart
then to see the passing of this part.
For my struggles true they be
Did now surly offend thee.

Be what it may this path now tread.
A solemn resolution sadly lead.
For I now see that what might have been
had stopped at only skin.

I desired real but I got fake
nothing now more left at stake.
This last word I now speak
is something you might think Greek.

Sadly said what was thought to be real
instead is nothing else but drear.
I now know how fake this cause
even sadder still to ponder what was.

I take no joy in this separation
simply because of this situation.
I more sad then ever was mad but yet
I know it was just a cruel bet.

For the real was just for the sake of fake
despite who truly is to blame for this mistake.
So I offer you this last bit of advice.
Seek out my wisdom and avoid our demise.

For the water that runs in streams
is nothing more than cruel dreams.
That illusion of reality is just a business
and for the sourest fruit you can participate
in the loudest of those who pontificate.

Poem: The Child’s Tale

“Once in a Every Generation”
is how the age old tale goes.
A new myth based on an old lie begins
a battle cry for a new war sings now to its foes.

Don’t listen to pomp of the poppycock
They only seek to see you ruin
instead fight them with a truer tale
one born of his doin.

For it is in his birth true
The source of all things far and wide
finds its more essential glue
and when the songbird sings
let it not bind you to the false tide.

For I say it with all boldness
that supreme tale which grants
to all of us the great gladness
the birth of a child is our only hope

No mystical force binds us here
except that which comes from Word and Sacrament
please understand that the greatest story
which has already been ferment.