Month: June 2004

This is already posted on my poetry blog, but nobody ever reads that stupid thing…

Another Sunday Poem

Sunday morning she wakes

to a thousand drunken prayers

left in the night

by the eternal penitent

She gently removes the nails from his wrists

And turns to more trivial matters

Newspaper drivel

mixes body counts with fuel prices

fashion trends with natural disasters

class struggle with the fall TV lineup

All this violence and juxtaposition smacks of Christianity

Sunday is the patron saint of hypocrites

The television oozes talk of war

and athletes aping warriors

Murder is the king of Sunday morning

Worshippers kneeling in homage to a bloody human sacrifice

And failing to heed the lesson of it

There are days when it’s better to forget you’re human

better not to admit you belong to that

Sometimes she seeks absolution in sin

Lets forgiveness drip from her breasts like mother’s milk

And takes her turn at needing a saviour

More often than not one will be provided

The fisher king lies in wait

A thousand blessed kisses

could never heal a wound like that

but a girl could save her soul in the trying

Sunday morning she wakes

to a thousand drunken prayers

left in the night

by the eternal penitent

She gently removes the nails from his wrists

And turns to more trivial matters

Newspaper drivel

mixes body counts with fuel prices

fashion trends with natural disasters

class struggle with the fall TV lineup

All this violence and juxtaposition smacks of Christianity

Sunday is the patron saint of hypocrites

The television oozes talk of war

and athletes aping warriors

Murder is the king of Sunday morning

Worshippers kneeling in homage to a bloody human sacrifice

And failing to heed the lesson of it

There are days when it’s better to forget you’re human

better not to admit you belong to that

Sometimes she seeks absolution in sin

Lets forgiveness drip from her breasts like mother’s milk

And takes her turn at needing a saviour

More often than not one will be provided

The fisher king lies in wait

A thousand blessed kisses

could never heal a wound like that

but a girl could save her soul in the trying

(detritus)(poetica)(myth)(opinion)(divination)

Actual results may vary.

“So why don’t you be a man about it, like they do in the grown up movies?”

36 hours straight of nonconnectivity. ISP bastards.

After I’d awakened the first time this morning, I drifted back into a light sleep and heard my late grandmother calling my name in a soft and ancient Southern Illinois/Kentucky twang. I don’t know why I dreamt her voice, but I sure as hell display her legacy of sheer stubbornness every day of my life.

(detritus)(poetica)(myth)(opinion)(divination)

Danced this morning with my wee toddler,the famous and beautiful Miss Sarah Peanut, to a soundtrack including The Cure, Hank Williams III, and The Velvet Underground. Nothing like The Velvet Underground and Belgian Waffles for breakfast…

I have an awful sinus headache and I feel like I’m going to die.
Just thought I’d share.
Blogging from work…

I believe, if we take habitual drunkards as a class, their heads and their hearts will bear an advantageous comparison with those of any other class. There seems ever to have been a proneness in the brilliant and warm-blooded to fall into this vice.

– – Abraham Lincoln – –