Poems for the Shit of It - cornfed (13 inch ebook reader .txt) 📗

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And God is bleeding on His thrown

God is letting the children die
To get them back to heaven
The mere idea God would kill
Puts yet another deadly sin on the current list of seven

Suffering through life is normal for the young and old
It’s the way God has planned our fate
Accept the worst, it’s God’s will
Bringing the deadly sin list to one more above eight

And when I look into the mirror
And I see the enemy square
It was I who killed God, God lay dying
Because I was too religious to dare


God and Wine

“God would you turn the wine back into water”
Was a prayer I used to say
Actually, it was a country song
But it’s a prayer all the same

The first miracle Mr. Jesus performed
Was to turn the water to wine
But of course as they say, it wasn’t Zinfadel,
It was probably something watered down just fine

And they say drunk is a sin
That the devil lives in whiskey
But I have had more good things done
While just drinking and feeling a bit frisky

I helped a man get a ride home
I stopped a bar room fight
I gave a woman a great compliment
And all this on one Friday night

If I had sat home and looked down on
Those fuckers drinking their wine
I would have missed out on many experiences
From blond, to brute, to the desperate whine

You will find more humanity
In a bar than in a church
It’s booze that releases the ideas
That have been smoldering in religions’ girth

Never would I have considered a God
Who loves unconditionally,
Until I looked the man in the eyes
Who was drunk beyond my own belief

I see God in a hooker
I see God in a drunk
I see God above the labels
Of societies labeling junk

It’s the motivation that determines the fate
One’s right with joy and expression
One’s wrong with loneliness and hate

They say we are scarred
They say we are sin
I say God did everything just fine
And it’s our celebration of life where wine can begin


Work - Pearls and Swine

I do my best
I really do
To make me
So proud of you

I look at the bright side
I see your smile
I see the change
I am making you worthwhile

I am helping you rise
To the top of your ladder
I work long hours
So you can keep your nose powdered

40 hours a week
Is nothing for me
Sleep is for amateurs
Only pro’s are sheep

“Baa Baa”
To whatever you say
I’ll run the race
I’ll fight your way

Until one day
When it becomes clear
That I have only so many
More days to live

Helping you help yourself
Is a noble trait
Assuming you’re helping
Something besides your bank

I think it was a wise man
Who was quoted to have said
Something along the lines
Of having one life to live

And so it’s with my pearls
The only thing I have is my time
I won’t cast them before your ass no more
No more pearls before any swine


Oh You Are So Great - Maybe Not

It amazes me when I see the sun
Rising itself above the earth
Swelling itself to reach the breadth
Of Gods’ Sovereign and Perfect girth

The Master of the ceremony
The Maker of it all
He/She/It just is just Perfect
The Holiness of it all

But the more I live in this shit hole
The more I face myself
I see that God isn’t so great
His will is often just in jest

How can a man come to terms
With the condition of his soul
When nothing around him or within him
Tells him of another road

I know God is not dead
I know God is not silent
But I believe God to be lesser
Than that which we have consigned

I don’t think of Him as omnipotent
I don’t see Him as “great”
I see Him as an observer
To mankind’s fate

It’s one thing for God to give man the rules
And let him make his choice
It’s completely sadistic
To just let him wander without a CLEAR voice

I didn’t ask for this life
I didn’t ask for my strife
I certainly didn’t ask to be carved
By God’s righteous carving knife

I guess it’s true what they say
Perhaps we are so fucked
But why in the world would God allow
A majority of life to suck?

I don’t ponder the greatness of God anymore
Nor do I ponder my own sin
I just sit back wonder
If I was God, would I have allowed THIS to begin?


To What End

I asked my God to help me see
The start and end of each day
And then I’m confronted with a speck of dust
The dust of realities way

I don’t know to what end we are to obtain
Nor do I see why there is even a path
I never got instruction number one
From the dumb-ass who made the grass

I get lots of pointers
Which all point to other points
I guess the point to which they point
Is that there is no point.

It takes money to live in this life
And it takes work to make it exist
It takes smarts to invest it wisely
Even then someone is working to make it persist

To what end and from what beginning
Did we get to where we are at?
We are in a circle, chasing a tail
A tail that doesn’t even have a cat.

I wish there was an off switch
One that didn’t require a gun
Something I could just flip one day
And never again see the sun

For all the beauty one says we have
For all the zest of one life to live
It seems to live that life one must have cash
And with making cash there is less zest to give

I don’t understand the ways of my Maker
And I certainly don’t agree with his plan
I don’t even think he thought to consider
The multitude of confusion he enabled for man

Even when I want to set loose and live free
Burdens cast aside without regret
I am faced with the fact I need cash
Just to have some things I’d like to get

Peace is easy for the homeless
They have less things to cloud their mind
But my heart doesn’t want a box for a home
But nor does it want the daily grind.

I don’t know the answer
And I don’t know what in my life to mend
All I keep asking myself day in and paycheck out
My life, my purpose, my fellows, we are doing WHAT to WHAT end?

I don’t want to live this way anymore
But I don’t see a way out
Unless God grants me a money tree
Or tells ALL money to get the hell out.


I Take

To be told I can take
All that God is willing to Give,
Sounds like I am snatching from Life
In order my selfish dreams I might live.

But that is not at all the Truth,
For deep down lives the Prize.
That wants to take what It actually Gave...
If we would just clear our eyes.

“But what about the others?
Those poor and downtrodden wrecks?
How can you take the abundant life?
When others are buried up to their necks?”

It’s really a simple answer, you see,
To those deep and complex questions.
Give them the tools to take……
Which means tell them to ignore all those silly questions!


You Are Made to Only Carry Many Things

“Life is such a lonesome, boring, stupid burden”
Said the young man to himself
“I get handed lemon after lemon”
As he reached for the gun on the shelf

Barrel to his temple, finger on the trigger
Squeezing carefully, waiting for the sound
The hammer met the bullet with a click
And then the boy dropped to the ground

“I cannot even kill myself!”
“There is nothing I can do worth living!”
He cried of pity and laid himself down
On this wonderful Sunday evening

He walked down to the basement
And hung a rope over a rafter
Noose on neck, feet on stool
He jumped forward with mad laughter

The wood broke and the boy was again on the ground
Pounding his fists
Shouting at God
“That’s twice you’ve made me a clown!”

From the kitchen he grabbed a toaster
And filled a tub with warm warm water
He jumped in ready to fry
But instead blew out a circuit breaker

He climbed out of the tub, falling to the ground
And this time he had nothing to say
He knew three times he tried to die
And three times His Maker made him stay

With nothing to do but sit and think
The boy pondered his plight
He couldn’t live with himself anymore
And he couldn’t die by his hand tonight

Trying to meet his end, he saw his beginning
A truth that he henceforth lived ever so tall
He was built so he could die of his own burdens
Or let go of that burden, and carry the joys of all.


Now What?

I would think it quite a most unusual thing
For a man to obtain a chest full of gold
But sit in front of it all day, guarding its weight
And still sleeping through the winter in the cold

It’s the same predicament I share today
Having been poor in spirit, now rich.
I have been shown the keys to a kingdom
One that never dies and never sleeps away

What to do with Eternity? What to do with Faith?
Knowing that I cannot die
Yet not knowing how to live
Only makes the treasure a substantial weight.

Freedom is apparently a heavy possession
Because it’s toughened up this soul of mine
Carrying it around, trying to live it out
And then finding the body not responding in kind

Really, if you had forever in front of your door
Wouldn’t the ultimate question turn into a bore…
Now what?
Now what do I do, with life forever more????

Perhaps the only answer to that question
Is to consider where one is stationed
It’s planet Earth, 2009, I’m on the beach….
Maybe I should just live my life like a vacation?

Maybe it makes more sense to live furious
And die young
To keep the question
From spending too much time on my tongue?

Or should I somehow be content with taking it easy
And die old
Maybe
To keep the ? something I ponder when I’m sleepy?

Or maybe this life is truly just a gift
And we can live it any way we choose
It could be a process of letting go of the bondage
Of just existing or living in someone else’s shoes?

If I had it my way, this freedom I feel inside
I would live like Hugh Hefner and Shel Silverstein
Combine them both
I’m oh so along for THAT ride.

I think the hardest thing, no matter what I do
Is to somehow remember
That I am forever
And not let joy get in the way of my earthly muse.


God’s Likeness