Long Unprofitable Poems
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(As Galileo left the session of the Inquisition
at which he had been forced to deny his own
discovery that the earth orbited the sun, and
had to "admit" that the earth was static, he
murmured, "eppur si muove" ("but it moves").
It's hard to live in Lilliput, I find.
I have to cross my fingers, play their game.
Their billing, filling, drilling daily grind
sits ill with me. They all trot out the same
tired cliches. Passing a painting, never fail
to comment on the squareness of the frame.
Unprofitable, weary, flat and stale.
You can't earn prizes here. These fools prize earning.
No sweets to eat. It's one long dreary tale
of condemnation, disapproval, spurning.
The Sunday supplements determine taste,
all tearing down, forbidding, banning, burning.
They're sealed in heavy metal, concrete-cased
austerity. They put the "die" in "diet".
What will survive of them is nuclear waste.
Denounce, detract, dismiss it and deny it.
Don't look for clover - look for cloven hooves.
Excoriate it, flay it, vilify it.
They'd love to let life lurch along in grooves,
the gauche, perverse, unruly human mind
trapped tidily in aspic. But it moves.
Compelled
David J Walker
The sad part of this obsession is
Knowing how unprofitable it will always be
Language leanings in different directions
Confessions of the soul count for nothing
A mornings reflection in vivid description
Serving only a fraction of lost and forgotten temptations
The torments of love yet unexplained
Colors unnamed
Secrets never revealed
Clouds proudly morphing into forms unformed
And forms of deformed and fearful imaginings
A sincere hope that the unknown is better than today
The poet puts on the hat of a mad vatic
and buries his face in his hands
compelled to see the future
Like his fathers before him, he was a tiller of the soil.
He loved the old farmstead that was built with sweat and toil.
He farmed with Clydesdale horse and cantankerous mules,
A sickle bladed mower, sulky plows and other John Deere tools.
He rose before the sun was up to milk his Jersey cows,
To feed the fowl, his cattle and the Poland China sows.
This was a way of life for him, never taking any vacations.
He cherished the farming life despite its many frustrations.
Tho' he'd seen unprofitable years, floods, hail and drought,
With indomitable courage, he chose to press on and see it out.
He knew the successful fruition of crops was a roll of the dice,
But he steadfastly labored on taking his chances at any price.
His fields of corn, wheat and oats were a beauty to behold.
He prayed he'd get top price when his various crops were sold.
At harvest, his mows were overflowing, his bins flush with grain.
Come next Spring he and his horses would begin the cycle again.
In overalls and an old straw hat, he toiled 'neath the Hoosier sun,
Laboring from dawn to dusk - it seemed his work was never done.
He clad his little son in overalls and assigned him simple chores,
Saying, "Work hard my boy - someday this will all be yours!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
(Immediately after being found "guilty"
of denying that the earth was stationary
and the sun orbited around it, Galileo
said, "Eppur si muove!" [But it moves!])
It's hard to live in Lilliput, I find.
I have to cross my fingers, play their game.
Their billing, filling, drilling daily grind
sits ill with me. They all trot out the same
tired cliches. Passing a painting, never fail
to comment on the squareness of the frame.
Unprofitable, weary, flat and stale.
You can't earn prizes here. These fools prize earning.
No sweets to eat. It's one long dreary tale
of condemnation, disapproval, spurning.
The Sunday supplements determine taste,
all tearing down, forbidding, banning, burning.
They're sealed in heavy metal, concrete-cased
austerity. They put the "die" in "diet".
What will survive of them is nuclear waste.
Denounce, detract, dismiss it and deny it.
Don't look for clover - look for cloven hooves.
Excoriate it, flay it, vilify it.
They'd love to let life lurch along in grooves,
the gauche, perverse, unruly human mind
trapped tidily in aspic. But it moves.
What to do about those under the table?
When those paying them are unable,
And have gone back to their scrabble.
Should we be worried they might become unstable,
When a constable is to us unreachable.
If an amnesty was the solution most suitable,
Would they deem that call trustable?
Doing nothing would runs risks considerable,
As desperate people become unreasonable,
And could make decisions that were once to them unthinkable.
Have we any room in our hearts for those now playing scrabble,
To see their actions as forgivable,
When they made some legitimate businesses unprofitable.
Then there are the businesses who took money under the table,
That is never counted as taxable,
And now can't be counted when loss of income is considerable,
Requiring a handout from those who deem it despicable.
Maybe compassion is the only thing thinkable,
With crumbs no longer falling from the table,
And we can leave accountability,
To a time when the situation is more favourable,
And our actions more reasonable,
With those now playing scrabble,
Or making a living under the table,
More likely to be amiable,
To a life that is sustainable.
Three faceless Misses
amble amidst vagarious March rains
under parasols / veiled in the anonymity of death/burial
Three / shifting between tangible lives
breathless bellies barely acclimated to first-life
Brown girls who were shadows before second death
Voiceless / ambassadors of disordered paradigms moved
past dangerous minds weaponizing skin/genitals/unlikeness
criminalizing the Creator who made all things well
Unnoticed whispers/ persistently noiseless as in their lifetime
holding umbrellas humbly against the falling judgments
of the colour-blinded masses - Why rains of sticks/stones/saliva
nooses to delete tar bodies
Yet hapless muses stumbled onto canvas
into dance/parlance
where they will become unabandoned
Savage Chronos buries memories in forgetting / turning them disremembered erased
Still / Three impossible princesses forge through moss
gray haze / dark puddles
swallowing uneasily their backbreaking grief over race relations
Daily / silently pissing peppers / hoisting parapluies
raiment raking wet roads
so saturated hems won't slap ankles
Three from carnal cages flew
haunting effigies rambling
seeking their paradise visions
Above Earth’s murky ways / umbrellas rise as masted ships
sailing the slender triumvirate to Elsewhere's ardent sun
cyan skies / immaculate time
when fretful flesh is shed / purified souls will travel in light
Three ancestral sisters became memory/myth/justice
bursting through Chronos’ forgetful fog
Lifeless / yet enduring / Three whispers:
“Justice will rain where it had condemned
the God of Creation is vengeful / He alone who’d seen us in a sightless world
humanity’s cheap lenses / unprofitable paradigms beg amends.”
September 28 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Luke 16-17
Key Verse – Luke 16:15 And he said unto them, Ye are they which justify yourselves before men; but God knoweth your hearts: for that which is highly esteemed among men is abomination in the sight of God.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY HEART’S SEARCHER
Lord God, You are my heart’s Searcher
according to Your affirmation for my willingness
Thank You for disciplining my towering haughtiness
And for making me submissive, esteeming You with earnestness
So I won’t desire to be fed with vanity’s meaninglessness.
Lord God, You are my heart’s Searcher
according to Your enrichment for my endeavor
Thank You for cheering my heart discontentment-savor
And for making me prayerful through Your power’s fervor
So I won’t react as a loser to foes’ mockery of bitter flavor.
Lord God, You are my heart’s Searcher
according to Your calling for my diligence
Thank You for checking motives midst selfishness-resurgence
And for making me admit and repent from my work’s negligence
So I won’t fail in showing my faithful obedience.
Lord God, You are my heart’s Searcher
according to Your pardon for my trespasses
Thank You for increasing my faith to overcome attacking stresses-crises
And for making me persevere despite accusing guilt-curses
So I won’t stay unprofitable in frustration that oppresses.
Lord God, You are my heart’s Searcher
according to Your mercy for my vocation
Thank You for cleansing my soul with Your ready sanctification
And for making me grateful for Your unmerited compassion
So I won’t rob You of Your glory and honour’s exaltation.
Lord God, You are my heart’s Searcher
according to Your revelation for my reward
Thank You for preserving my life as I progress spiritually forward
And for making me zealous in Your entrusted ministry as Your steward
So I won’t be ashamed of my Christian testimony and be called a coward.
Lord God, You are my heart’s Searcher
according to Your leadership for my followership
Thank You for forgiving my sins I confess toward sincere worship
And for making me steadfast midst challenges in my discipleship
So I won’t lack fullness of Your blessed, blissful triumphant fellowship.
September 28, 2023
The Great Deception
We perpetuate the great deception that makes our life harder by easing it,
we make the uncomfortable comfort that squeezes us in its soft cold arms,
pleasure becomes the sweet pain that feeds us with pure poison,
our profitable is the loss that enriches us with wealthy poverty.
We do exactly the opposite by doing what we say we never do,
life becomes tasteless having that bitter taste of dead sweetness,
our existence is inflated payment swollen by the emptiness that fills it with full void,
unprofitable is the profitable waste that consumes us every single day always.
An ugly word covers everything with its hideous shining beauty,
waste is the saving that empties us by filling our empty pockets,
our thoughts are consumed creating the unwise wisdom,
our energies are lost building what is useless but always necessary.
Even our lives are used by not being used in every moment past,
we create what is unwise with our blind clairvoyant wisdom,
we build the necessary useless that fills our existence with dense heavy void,
our healthy unhealthy heals us by making us sick with each day.
We perpetuate the true deception that tells us sincere lies always,
we make life easier by making it harder with the heavy comfort of pleasure,
our waste economizes by consuming all we have and don't have,
every day in every way we lose ourselves finding ourselves in eternal loss.
We became blind to His love for us
Failing to honor Him in our worship
His choices now offend us
And our offerings now offend Him
Our hearts refuse to take Him in
So, we go through the motions
For the appearance of respectability
We are hypocrites
Asking Him for His blessing
While dishonoring His name
We have turned back from following Him
Our speech becomes ever more sinful
Showing partiality in His instructions
Showing lack of influence by the Spirit
We are disillusioned
Accusing Him of injustice
Because the wicked are prospering
While our own service to Him is unprofitable
So, we withhold from Him
And become more self-assertive
Dealing treacherously with each other
We are lacking spiritual kinship
Yet, it's because of His justice
We still have space to repent
To return to Him and regain His blessing
To avoid the curse and coming judgment
He will send Elijah before that Day
To break the stalemate
Pessimism, I loathe your gloomy effect
Parroting vanity’s vexation in my mind that I’m unprofitable…
God I thank; by His strength* is great achievement as I do my utmost.
Negativism, I vanquish your vehement accusations
Taunting me of my failures, falls, and frustrations…
I praise the Lord for His compassion, pressing me on with optimism!
Skepticism, I conquer your attacking doubts
Robbing me of my sanity’s tranquility; torturing me mentally…
The omniscient Sovereign I trust as I settle myself serenely in His truth!
Criticism, I subdue your undermining, deceitful, hypocritical comments
Treating me as a loser in my service-commitment…
Propped by the Almighty’s power, I can be the best for His glory!
Evil thoughts, I pluck all your poisonous roots from my soul’s ground…
Thru the Scriptures’ exhortations, I can bloom and prosper
Triumphantly living for my Master, reaching others by His love!
*Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
January 21, 2019
1st place, "ULTIMATE JANUARY 2019..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 1/30/2019.