Thursday, October 20, 2016

Poem: Curse of Womb

Curse of Womb
Hosea 9

Our friends' necks
Are outstretched,
Our neighbors
Plot against us.
They have served
Their belly-
God of fire,
Coming down
From killing
Their babies.
They tip off
Kindly seize
Our children.
Where is he.
Thunder is
His voice but
Where is he?
Of horses.

Their dust shall
Cover us.
Our walls shake
At the noise
Of horsemen,
Of chariots.
I make thee
He said that.
Is smitten,
From the birth,
From the womb,
Even from
Like a bird
Our glory
Flies away.

To Ball-Peor
Wanton rites,
To Moloch.
We bring up
Our children,
But it's he
Bereaves us.

We bring forth
Our children,
Planted in
Pleasant place,
To murders.
Give us, Lord.
What wilst give?
Womb, dry breasts.
Root's dried up,
Bear not fruit.
We bring forth,
He will slay.
Even fruit,
Fruit of womb.

Kindly seize
Our children,
Voice is heard
In Ramah,
Belly god
Consumes them
Because us,
Because we
Climbed the heights,
Sacred trees,
And played whore.

Our friends' necks
Plot against us.
We shall be
Among them
The nations
Till he save
Till he save
Till he save
And saves us.

Thursday, October 13, 2016

Byzantine England? Yes, Please. Also, Bows & Arrows


Byzantine Anglo-Saxon England? Maybe. Let's imagine it for just a second... Britain, the Byzantine Empire, and the concept of an Anglo-Saxon 'Heptarchy': Harun ibn Yahya's ninth-century Arabic description of Britain.

Also, apropos of nothing, did you know that when Sir Francis Drake raided the Spanish colonial town of Nombre de Dios, some of his men were armed with bows and used them? Yes, dude. Yes. Drake planned on having his men use them before he left England, ordering "fine, roving shafts, very carefully reserved for the service".

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Best Kind of Pipe For Your Walk to Work

Lunting is one thing, walking to and from work with a pipe clenched between your teeth is another. You got places to go and people to see, and your pipe should expedite that process...

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Thrice Beaten With Rods, And Baked Into Bread: A Poem On The Eucharist

Thrice Beaten With Rods, And Baked Into Bread
ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμων

Is this the body and the blood for real
Or do I eat by sweat my wrinkled brow
And feed on doubt and lust even as I kneel?

The words were spoken plain and bare as steel
But I would complicate and rate them now.
Is this the body and the blood for real?

There is no magic done to see or feel
Except a spelling of words and a woven vow.
I feed on doubt and lust even as I kneel.

Not art nor philosophy make of it a meal
That does what so solemn says. He never said how
This is the body and the blood for real.

Maybe it's an animal weakness for social congeal,
The sodded quick of boiled bones' marrow
Where stew the doubt and lust even as I kneel.

But under this red rock is the new deal.
Not under; this rock's the whole loaf now.
It is the body and the blood for real,
Again I feed on bread and wine, and kneel.

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Why Should We Love God? Fear of Hell? Love of Good? Something Else?

"What must I love thee for, then?" Why ought we to love God? Desire for heaven? Fear of hell? The last line of the poem below gives us the answer.

Gerard Manley Hopkins' translation of the poem attributed to Francis Loyola:

"I love thee, God, I love thee—
Not out of hope for heaven for me
Nor fearing not to love and be
In the everlasting burning.
Thou, my Jesus, after me
Didst reach thine arms out dying,
For my sake sufferedst nails and lance,
Mocked and marred countenance,
Sorrows passing number,
Sweat and care and cumber,
Yea and death, and this for me,
And thou couldst see me sinning:
Then I, why should not I love thee,
Jesu so much in love with me?
Not for heaven’s sake, not to be
Out of hell by loving thee;
Not for any gains I see;
But just the way that thou didst me
I do love and will love thee.
What must I love thee, Lord, for then?
For being my king and God. Amen."

That's why we love Him. Because he's been our king. And as a good king he reached out to us, loved us, died for us. This is our Jesus, we love him as our Lord.

7 Strong Sports Mustaches That Aren't Rollie Fingers Or The Eck

Alexi Lalas, Rutgers man. Rutgers is not Ivy League.
Jason Eaton, Palmy man and Taranaki stalwart.
Paul Clauss, Munich and Oxford man always up for a tipple.
Pablo Mastroeni, a true Wolfpack old boy.
Antonio Borges, a loyal Chaves man.
Ian Botham, England mainstay.
Andy Ellis, Canterbury man-about-town.