Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts

Saturday, April 16, 2016

People who say "God" too much, a poem by Mark Heffron

People who say "God" too much

"I know God very well, from his pointy little tail to the horns upon his head!"

(This poem is dedicated to the memory of Lou Reed)

People who say "God" too much
Sound remarkably like used car salesmen
Trying to unload the worst lemon on the lot-
Slapstick evangelists bumping their heads
Into every known law of science and simple logic-
The Pat Robertson Psychic Network;
The Jerry Falwell School of Bigotry;
Shills for ideas that even their inventors would dump
Into the rubbish pit of abandoned monuments to the dense
Demolished by the wrecking ball of common sense.
People who say "God" too much
Are quick to start an argument, eager to start a war.
It begins with debates over trivial differences
Between their own superstitions and others'
And grows into threats of death and damnation.
The father of their opponents' misguided lies
Is always that arch-fiend Satan,
The horned rabble-rouser who leads
His endless legions of assaulting facts
And forever pokes his contentious pitchfork
Into the bilious delusions of gas-bag preachers
Who have blotted the last hopeful ray of doubt from their minds,
Cast down from the heavenly light of endless possibilities
To roam the shadow-world where fear has eclipsed reason,
The dark corner the dictator of truth paints himself into
With the leaking shrouds and inkblots of decaying dogmas.

People who say "God" too much
Have a god that looks remarkably like themselves-
The same race and social status,
The same comical facial expressions of self-righteousness.
The egoist makes god in his own image.
Tell him that he worships his own delusions
And that when he "talks to god"
It is his malformed left brain
Talking to his chemically imbalanced right,
And he will often tremble and relegate you
To the next available hot-plate in hell.

The only place where people say "God" too much
More than born-again prison inmates do
Is in psychiatric wards where raving prophets
Often use the word to address themselves.
The more often a person says "God"
The closer he gets to the ultimate godhead
Of the tyrant, the terrorist, and the psychopath.
And when one of our fearless leaders claims
To be on a mission from god, be sure
That we're heading for hell in a hallelujah hand-basket.

The acme of science is the death of religion.
If you see Jesus or Moses or Buddha kill him;
It's only your image in a vanity-glass.
To hear the sound of one hand clapping
Slap yourself in the face.
And when you tire of zealots and salesmen,
Follow some drunken pilgrim who takes the hardest roads
To the highest places and ponders trails of stars.
Befriend the seekers of wonder, the artists of the self,
And every doubting Thomas
Who has ever probed the wounds of a suffering savior

To see if the truth shines beneath the scabs.



"Straw Man" by Lou Reed



The humility of Jesus, as described in the Bible

 Jesus' disciples were discussing among themselves about who was the greatest. "At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, "Who then is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" {2} Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them, {3} and said, "Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. {4} "Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. {5} "Whoever receives one little child like this in My name receives Me" (Matthew 18:1-5 NKJV).

"... Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all." (Mark 10:43-44) 

"When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, 'Give this person your place,' and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, 'Friend, move up higher'; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." (Luke 14:8-11) 

"Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.' But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!' I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other, for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted." (Luke 18:10-14) 

The Apostle Paul taught the principle of humility through Jesus' example, saying, "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a servant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross" (Philippians 2:5 - 8).

The Apostle Paul explains: "For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that you through His poverty might become rich" (2 Corinthians 8:9).

Again, the Apostle Peter continued his exhortation on humility to the church, saying, "for God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble. Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time" (1 Peter 5:5b & 6).

"So when He had washed their feet, taken His garments, and sat down again, He said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? {13} "You call me Teacher and Lord, and you say well, for so I am. {14} "If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. {15} "For I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you. {16} "Most assuredly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master; nor is he who is sent greater than he who sent him. {17} "If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them" (John 13:12-17 NKJV). 

Monday, March 21, 2016

Love Knows No Distance - a Poem by Mark Heffron (with sunset video)

Love Knows No Distance - a Poem by Mark Heffron (with sunset video)

Sunset over Lake Winnebago at the High Cliff State Park Harbor



Love Knows No Distance

The mother has buried her only child
     And grieves in his bedroom the long winter nights,
     Caressing his clothing and empty shoes.
     She feels his impression in the wale of the bedding
And sails the small lifeboat to a starry shore.
She follows his footprints where love knows no distance,
     As the child has followed the trail of her tears,
     And fashions a shelter where her heart has broken
To cradle his memory till love's resurrection.

The drunken man weaves through the streets of the harbor.
     He so loves the world that their eyes look away.
     So he talks to the ghosts who still answer his voice
With the laughter of children who play through the night.
At each echoing step their voices grow louder
     Till a small hand beckons from the moon-speckled bay
And takes him to rest where love knows no distance.



The pilgrim wanders from church to church
     Seeking the beloved who blesses his dreams.
     He sees her face in each morning's horizon.
In each chapel he finds her a steeple away.
He traces her form in the ocean of stars
     That flicker like distant harbor lights
     Calling the wayfaring stranger home.
When his eyes grow dark on a mid-winter's night
There a light still glistens like a frozen tear
     Wept at the altar of the loving Redemptress 
In the bright homecoming where love knows no distance.

In the coves where shadows kiss and whisper
     Sweet parables of the lovers' moon,
     The tide that weds their ecstasy
Soon ebbs to leave the barren sands.
Born from love and sentenced to death,
     Their ardor spills across seawalls of time.
     The sweet elixir that shines in their blood
Overflows the grail of their suffering.
When the heart's battered sails meet the reefs of death
     The invisible tide that guided their love
     Will seal their marriage in a timeless harbor
Where moon meets water and love knows no distance.

Whose face awaits you in the silent hour?
     Who else could rise but the ones you loved?
     The heart writes its story in every cell.
In the script's final scene, the passion play's ending,
Shine the faces of the immortal beloved-
     So close they were always a heart-beat away,
     At the end of longing, the great embrace,
Where love knows no distance.


Monday, February 15, 2016

Chasing the Cheshire Smile - A Poem about the Paradoxes of Science by Mark Heffron

Chasing the Cheshire Smile - A Poem about Science by Mark Heffron


Chasing the Chesire Smile


Schrodinger's cat has leaped from his box
  And grins in the light of the milky way.
    In the Rubaiyat of quarks and less,
 The moving mind,
     Having thought,
         Moves on.
  Nor all your wisdom
      Nor all your wit
     Can calculate its whereabouts,
   Nor any passing thought
     Record a trace of it.

        How can you photograph
         The perspective of your eye?
       Or grasp the hand
         Already gone?

   How can the scientist ever capture
  One wave in the ever-flowing ocean
   Of his own consciousness?
        Where is the crossroads between
    The human brain and the cosmos?
      Can the universe be reduced to equations
    Or is math our Tower of Babel
   Upon which mankind can build an elaborate springboard
   To take a grand swan-dive into oblivion?

        Every star that beckons
   Has already escaped the image
  Reflected in the astronomer's eye.
       Inside Pandora's box of equations,
         The cryptic numbers are nature's own.
     "Who am I?" is always answered by
"I am that am".

  In the art of chaos
        Paint-by-number programmers
        Splash their phosphor landscapes
    With the palettes of iterative equations
 Until the signatures of beauty emerge
         Orbiting the invisible strange attractor
       Mystics and lovers call the heart.

 Spiraling down the cosmic mind-field
      The roller-coaster frequencies shrink,
         And vital signs flicker like dying candles
   Until the still blood surrenders its light
         And the flat-line sleeper awakens to ecstasy.


    
 The theorist stares intently

   At the chalk marks on his blackboard,
       Peers through the looking-glasses
     Of microscopes, telescopes
 And particle accelerators
At the fleeting trails of the illusive cat
     With his countless calico lives
        Who keeps dividing himself by zero
  And disappears again and again
Into that inscrutable smile.