Long Proselytize Poems

Part I

Rock n Roll came through the slave trade
The Hippies and Moonies said “We’ve got it made”
“Rock n Roll sounds came from the jungle” [Lennon said]
The blues helped through the struggle
The rhythm and the movements...

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He doesn’t have to prove anything to me. The Holy Spirit, that is. I’ve always known He’s there, from childhood on, even if I ignored Him for many years. But like others growing older, I...

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I (Samson wannabe) feel aghast at latest turn of events regarding Gaza

Omnipresent grief and horror
abounds toward ceaseless killing fields
impossible mission for me
to summon forth fading magic powers
since Delilah imposter hashtagged,
(and subsequently outed) 
as a mortal...

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I like Muslims,
Particularly Yemenis
And Pakistanis (in Yemen)—
With whom, as a university don,
I happened to live for six years. 

Arabic vowels render 
A Yemeni voice gruff.
So even a greeting would   probably
Sound rude to you.

The...

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I like my lies the way my mother used to make them. Wrapped up in spring roll pastry and thrown into the fryer. Served on a plate to a child who had nothing else to...

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Tattle cries are just as loud as battle cries, 
but the difference is 
tears from mannequins dry on untouchable skin. 
You may have a purpose, but your attempt at a movement 
is motionless because your...

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IV
Matriculation

Back to home, Patrick did go,
	For in his heart he knew
		It was time to study with the church,
	That this he had to do.
			He told his parents when he got home
				That he must go to France
					And...

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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,...

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airing zeal! If (dog forbid) the richly paid, namebrand 
looming kneecapped kneeling illustrious giant egghead 
con cussed career athletes fumble, crumble and bumble 
spelling a loss for those spectators (who doled out 
a wad of...

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My soul is lifted out of my mind.
In its stead—
filled by the Holy Spirit,
guided in silence by its breath...
like an angry wind held still
above a river born of crashing falls,
with a tooth that grinds iniquities,
and...

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For whom do you write, vainglorious poet?
Who are the disciples you seek?
Shall converts worship at the altar of your prose;
Devoutly reciting your works?
Is there passion alight in your breast;
The call of some unknown muse?
Or does...

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ODER 
Oder 

A narrative poem in the charlax stYle 
  

Benjamine: he hath an oder oh mye qyeen 

  

Qyeen: yes he smells just like my camels butt 

  

Benjamine: eye meanteth...

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Researchers seeking solutions can’t say
things are the way they are because of God.
From Spirit, scientists must shy away
or risk their labors be seen as slipshod.

The fraction of them considered devout
must keep their studies apart from...

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