People riding on the train
Some are crazy, some are sane
Who knows where they’re going now
Or when or why or what or how
But when I close my eyes I see
All that matters is not me
Jesus rises in the east
Or in the west or where its best
Or where its worst or where its first
Or where there’s people who are cursed.
He spins the worlds that heaven holds
And heals the cruelest winter colds
And tells the darkness it must hide
And says he knows that people lied
He takes the poems that have no truth
And writes them in the book of ruth
And takes the art that shouldn’t be
And makes a better mystery.
He says I know you didn’t care
Except your heart is truly there
And that is why the angels fly
In God’s own glory of the sky.
They say we hang by just a thread
But that will sometimes cause me dread
When people need salvation fast
And I am scared they will not last
I feel the pressure for their case
And think the thread is my own face
And anything I say and do
Is how God chooses who is who.
With stuff all hinging on my life
And what I say to solve their strife
So then they tell me their demands
That cause me shackles, traps and bands
But that is simply not my job
To say who has to wail and sob
So next time I’ll refer them where
Our God will let me just not care.
flash mob of dementors
Blocking the grocery store
The cash register connects
To the dark web
please remove card
Do not remove card
Transaction complete
Transaction canceled
Please remove card
Get on your knees and beg
Or we will admit
God hates us.
the only words left with any meaning are slurs?
Not necessarily. Some food is still what it is, like an orange.
What do you mean by that?
I mean the next fall of man will probably be from an orange.
Hmm. Fascinating.
Do you mean fascinating like a book,
or fascinating like a piece of green diareah stuck to the toilet bowl?
I don’t know. Let’s move on.
I guess my next question is, would you rather go to heaven
Or have a chance to slap every single person who has ever existed?
Well I guess we don’t know that’s not what heaven is.
Like just slapping people.
Is that how you interpret the Bible?
I don’t think this poem is in the bible.
You can’t hide from Christmas Day, it will find you.
And the presents that you get, will remind you
Of the many years before of more delusions,
Being crushed on Christmas day, in confusion.
Finding out that those you liked don’t like you back,
And at dinner hiding grief for what you lack.
So you try to stay in bed or take a walk,
Hoping time will pass you by and you won’t stalk.
But the day will run you over like a truck
Even though you thought that life would never suck
If the pain just hurts again then you can pray
For the other people also not okay.
And you know that in the million years to follow
There’s a love that heals all hearts still feeling hollow
So please stay alive and wait for nicer times now
Even though that no one really knows how
It is true that there’s a hope so real it blinds you
And I pray that better Christmas Days will find you.
Arcades,
Laundromats,
Slot Machines,
Gumball Dispensers,
Or just a magic trick on an elbow.
I think I'll choose
the plunk in the fountain
and a prayer to say
I wish you well.
what if there was a new ride at Disney World
called Journey into Tomorrow’s Problems
and it is one of those simulation rides
and they shake everyone violently and spray acid on them
prayers for the well
doesn't every girl want to be the dame in the movie who faints,
and every guy the wounded soldier being tended to?
I will not take for granted
that things I took for granted are gone.
Between winces and sighs,
and sinces and whys,
I'll defiantly spend my credit
that surely I get for this pain
on praying up some blessings
for the ones not sick but sane.
For everyone still living life and sinning and forgiving
I'll use my tears and pained arears
to bless the lands of living.
Why not? As thank you prayers
for when I was like that too,
with wishes, wants, and hopes, and cares,
and begged for dreams come true.
So now when nightmares haunt me here
and health is shaky, filled with fear,
I'll keep in mind requests for all
who find their life an easy call
Why shouldn't they each get a boost
from prayers that no one thought be loosed
Some coins are for the pinball games,
to ease the loss of health and names.
but some are going straight in wells
for all the well, til heaven's hell
and we are singing, well well well.
Prayer Power
"pray for my mom, she's crying and dying,"
well you should know without me lying
That God must hear the most from those
who suffer pains while in repose
So patient, I will say to thee
That she should think to pray for me.
Buying a box of cereal you don't like, just to punish yourself.
Then committing any crime, so as to confuse everyone on Judgement Day.
Why not just steal the box of cereal, some may ask.
Why not indeed. Except a brand you like which is Frosted Flakes.
It can be stolen retroactively if you spend your righteousness credit
on asking God to take away other people's blessings.
I guess good theology is hard to come by,
And that is why ad slogans can work just as well
if the slogan says something like:
buy a can of raid be gone or sing a song to get along,
that's where the cookies come from.
Your total is 50 dollars and 99 sins.
Francisco was a comedian in the very populated metro region of the south north quadrant. His shows had been getting more consistent, and he had a steady income from selling CDs and teaching some workshops. Most of his jokes were about dating, and office work, or funny things about relatives and awkward conversations. One night, in the middle of a show, he suddenly thought of a new joke and just blurted it out with no planning.
“What if someone was born with clothes on?” he said, standing at the mike while the audience roared laughing. The joke’s appreciative reception was as unexpected as the joke itself. Francisco started riffing on it, creating a wave of humor for the laughter to surf on. “It’s like, okay, do you wash the clothes on the baby, or what. Like is the baby just supposed to always have clothes on?” One guy in the middle of the comedy club was laughing harder than everyone. Francisco continued. “And do you tell people? Like if they say what a cute outfit, do you say, “thanks, it’s from that store downtown, called Miracle Baby.” Francisco kept thinking of more to say. “Wouldn’t you feel guilty if you had a baby shower and some people would like know that the baby already had an outfit, like the muppets, like Ernie and Bert who wear the same shirt every day?”
The guy laughing so hard in the middle of the crowd could not stop laughing. He was keeled over, clutching his stomach, drooling. His girlfriend next to him slowed her laughing and started to look concerned. A few other people nearby also seemed in distress, but mostly able to calm down. Francisco saw him but decided to go for one final punch. “It’s like, okay, so much for hand me downs, you know?”
This is when the drooling guy fell off his chair, and was suddenly motionless. He had died laughing. Some people came to his side and tried to call for medical attention. Many people still could not control themselves laughing and just left the comedy club.
Francisco watched from the stage, started to feel an odd feeling of pride, with some serious bafflement, but then smirked to himself, left the stage, and sat in a back room feeling a sense of power that he felt he had waited for all his life. “I was born for this,” he thought to himself, laughing, hesitating to make sure he would not die from his own joke, and then leaving to go home.
The joke became part of his routine, and because he toured all around from city to city, people didn’t realize there was a pattern happening when someone would die at every show.
“I’m a freakin’ serial killer,” thought Francisco, and then wondered if he could work that idea into the routine some.
Finally, at one of the shows as Francisco started talking about what kind of outfit a kid could be born in, like would it have a whale on the pocket or do you make the kid keep wearing the hat and socks or not, people started to lose control like usual. But a heckler stood up and started giving Francisco trouble. “Hey man, what we are wondering is what kind of outfit you’re going to jail in,” said the guy standing up. Some FBI agents then came on stage and took Francisco to the station for questioning. The heckler walked up behind the microphone and said, “This isn’t funny to me. I was born with clothes on.”
when we get to heaven
and it's just Jesus
sitting at a typewriter.
Antifa has to sign your social work license
or you can’t be a Christian counselor.
You think it’s Africa but it’s Mars
You think it’s them but it’s us
Trump is going to put Andrew Jackson
On every bill
which works out
If it means he has to pay for it all.
what is a jubilee
If not an explosion
Of jelly beans on easter.
plan
I am going to copyright
blue rectangles
so that anyone who uses
that shape in a drawing
has to pay me 50 dollars.
Literary Edition
I think a good alternate title
for the Bible could have been
"A Very Special Whale"
because of the part in the story
with Jonah and the giant fish.
people are saying "one smooth stone."
that was so sweet.
thanks conspiracy
thanks bean pod factory senders
if you were on square 9 in any september
then you have just won the flatch ratchet skill flag marble.
They said don't say any more poems
if what you are really trying to do
is a math problem.
That is a good idea.
To just say
the answer is 938 plus a repeating fraction,
and then let God think of the math problem
at some other time in history.
So you can say
you were right all along
and a mathematician.
And maybe some people didn't think of that trick,
but still had a phone number,
or a sight of green leaves,
and their life turns out okay.
Something I have always found crazy
is how there aren't many potpourri scents
called "electrical fire."
