Best Tract Poems
a multitude of pretexts
the foretaste
of argument:
premise explored
ignorance isolated
then
exchanged
for
understanding
So I’ve got a little secret
‘bout evangelism “tracts”.
See, they load us up each Sunday,
and we all plan our attacks.
Sometimes, we hear a sermon;
sometimes, we even sing,
But mostly, it’s a Ponzi scheme
to build a brand new wing.
And when we hand ‘em out,
we get a little star,
And sometimes, we get double points
for going to the bars!
We count up all our stars;
the one who has the most
Is featured in the lobby
and gets to sit up close!
And lately, we’ve been filming
when we go to proselytize;
We’re getting wise like serpents;
YouTube lets us monetize!
The reason we encounter
is to make you feel distressed,
And to get you to throw money
in the hopes that you’ll be blessed.
Now if you think I’m serious,
you don’t know me so well.
But what is true is I believe
in heaven and in hell.
The folks I know who hand those out
believe in these things too,
Because they love with all their heart,
they’re called to see it through.
They’ve read God’s revelation:
creation, fall of man.
They’ve read of Christ’s redeeming acts,
according to God’s plan.
They’ve read the Holy Spirit’s grace,
regenerating hearts.
They want to share the news they learned:
this gospel in four parts.
The news they share is simple:
that none seek after God,
That Christ died voluntarily
a thing most find quite odd.
They know that God is holy,
a God of love and wrath,
His love poured out as blood that day
on each sinner’s behalf.
For those who would believe
His saving act by faith,
Christ imparts his righteousness,
escape due wrath unscathed.
There’s much more in the Bible,
a life’s worth there, in fact.
We want to share His life with you;
we start with little tracts.
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all in fun, and with great love and respect for my soup friends and their beliefs
CIPROFLOXACIN HCL 500 MG remedied urinary tract infection
No aversion nor embarrassment
admitting, divulging, and jumpstarting
poetic endeavor regarding yours truly
afflicted, blighted, and contracted
with urinary tract infection,
(though condition finds me
feeling pissed off),
whereby urination fraught with
painful burning, gouging,
and stinging sensation.
Aside from the aforementioned ailment
practically, nearly, nay already cured,
after taking bad medicine, I feel great,
but recognize necessity
to take full course
of poetically issued, incorporated,
and identified antibiotic
despite feeling more drowsy than usual.
Impossible mission scrambling,
rummaging, and traversing
complex edifice housing
nooks and crannies pinpointing
how I, albeit married (libido
long since took kamikaze nosedive -
most likely adverse side effect
courtesy countless medications
prescribed to alleviate the bane
of social anxiety, obsessive
compulsive disorder, palmar hyperhidrosis,
et alia) though celibate
became subjected to micturate
experienced problematic discharge
to take a wizz with difficulty and discomfort.
The miracle of modern medicine
(actually corroboration of many
intelligent people such as biochemists,
biomedical engineer, pharmaceutical scientists,
et cetera) nips in figurative bud
ailments of body, mind and spirit
without which yours truly
among untold other individuals
would be unable to function
close to their optimal level as possible.
Though long since averse
to the crass commercialization
of most holidays in general,
and Christmas in particular;
eons ago boyhood found me
unbounded, unrestrained, untethered,
et cetera with bounteous excitement
when December twenty fifth
approached then finally arrived
whereat I knew full well
bearer of various and sundry gifts
linkedin with mother reminding father
in quasi cryptic words scotch tape
and newspaper in such and such place.
At ripe old age
of three score plus three
orbitz around the nearest star
considerably less enthusiasm gushes forth
at clamoring to purchase
and/or receive presents,
but rather anonymous
zoological primate here
within apartment b44
simply wanted a hippopotamus
to appease the hidebound grinch.
In floral perfume,
nectar gnawing bees who buzz and hum,
honeypots abound as maple syrup magnets flit and taunt,
garlands of magnolia upon the beechwood trellis,
lavender’s light purple trail a mint leaf tract from Cape Verde to Southwest Asia.
Lilac buds perspire on lambs skin swathes,
a misty bleat and frolic over far-flung heather muirs.
Summer breezes pot pourri
the spicy petals while they linger over luscious gardens, so ethereally wed.
Blessed are those senses we’ve been gifted with to revel in that labyrinthine maze whose vivid weave transports an earthly heaven in our midst.
It rings so clear, so pure, so strong, the tempo fills us up..
This be our inspiration, to be morally sound and just..
Early on, we learn the power of the music that we hear..
And carry it with us, as we grow each and every year..
Sometimes the rhythm changes, as we personally mature..
But we remember what we've heard, on that note you can be sure..
We might not have chosen a clear path in life, I'm sure you could agree..
We might have done some wrong, and paid the penalty..
We could learn from our mistakes, and correct them if we strive..
Remembering what we've heard, from the Sound Tract Of Our Lives..
the stage, the cage
lick your finger
turn the page
her touch is sharp
despite her age
and even now with water red
even now with nothing said
my dear, you’re all the rage.
the chair, the flare
dim the blinds and
kill the glare
I’m leaving now
I am, I swear
I hope you die full of regret
I hope you drown in your own sweat
with not a soul to care.