Our Father who art in Heaven,
Hollowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.
Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven (with an agitated voice)
Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven (with a calmer voice)
Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.....mmmh!
Is this the will You were referring to?
Is this the will that we should succumb to?
Is this the will that we are now accustomed for?
Is this it? Is this the Will?
Well......well I don’t like it!
Neither do my brothers and sisters who think You have turned Your back against them! Or have You?
I don’t mean to sound rude, but in sound mind and body I write this letter to You, anyone would see that we’re screwed!
Jesus, I don’t mean to intrude, but....
Our strength is unrenewed,
Our souls yearn soulful food!
Our souls yearn for a new fire!
Our souls yearn for you Oh Messiah!
The world sees us as liars, deceivers!
“Where is The God you preach about at church on a Sunday morning?
Is He not going to come down and rescue you?”
Your will hurts Father
Your Will is just too much!
Diverting his eyes from that last final hour,
denying death its due
His conscience and awareness tight in his grip,
ownership unrenewed
Both arms around life, he’s forever rejected,
blinded as time starts to bleed
Meeting the end in a loss of control
—damned by what he won’t concede
(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2020)
I dare you
not to read the words,
I double-dare you true
To live outside
a sentenced life
—your spirit unrenewed
(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)
my old sports car’s
fun, eye-catching plates
tossed in the trunk of
my new sedan
part of my joy
unrenewed. . . . like
those vanity plates
For Joann Grisetti's
Shanzi Poetry Contest
Unheeded in the spread of his name, quaking
Through the knit brow cuddling the sombre eye
Twice buckled into the couch of his yearning
The mouldy cast of unsculptured hands, moulting
In the surging sweaty cries' unexpected sigh
Sooner lost than won with unrenewed longing
Every day, every night in chastened haste, calling
That one face, one hand trembling on bosomy thigh
Through all the twigs of his knotty brooding
Mighty log in the dismembered chips, raking
In uneasy orgasms of a protracted lie
The woman clasped in the memory revolting
Fleshy hair to press, hovering nostrils, drinking
In the incensing vapours, and that face a wry
Screaming in the rubbing spasm, a bloody cursing
All, all and more, and the biting shame, clawing
Now at the name, silently growing, that shy
Child of old hopefully shared and lingered moaning
© T. Wignesan, 1960, first pub. in "Forum Academicum", University of Heidelberg, 1957 (from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)
IN THE NAME OF GOD
So much is said and done
In the name of God
For good, for evil
To give credit or blame
Who are we to use
The name of the Holy One
God Most High
To explain our own actions
Which may be righteous
Or on the contrary
Only a deception
Of what is truly
The will of God
Care must be taken
To avoid misrepresenting
The Creator
Judgment for idle words
Abusing one another
And God’s name
His character defamed
Lies believed brings destruction upon many
Ignorance rules in the heart of
The unredeemed, the unrenewed
Even the knowledgeable
Often lack sound judgment
But in the end
God will not be mocked
And His truth
Will be evident to all
mja
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