Coffee 2009

Death in Uganda again this Christmas
and  all in Jesus’ name
maybe  Museveni,  Ssempa
and Kony are the same

Young men hiding in their homes
from terrorists attacks
are we too progressive to notice
now that our president is black?

We’ll just say its not about us
we have our own niggers to save
our own fags to argue over
let them dig their early graves

But if it’s really not about us
if there’s purpose beyond ourselves
then its calling us to do more
than choose fair-trade from the shelf

About four years ago I wrote something called Coffee. It was also about this time of year. It also had to do with events impacting Uganda. When I feel powerless and impotent in the face of evil or injustice this is what I do. I pray. Its a prayer. Its an angry prayer. But it is a prayer nonetheless. Its a prayer for justice and in some ways a prayer of confession.  I invite you to join me in it.

~wwb

ps I think it goes without saying but the racial and homophobic epithets are caricatures of voices I hear in the American church and broader culture

depression’s sisters

depression she is persuasive
depression she is my muse
and lately she dances daily
but she insists on bringing you
your two narratives pervasive
your two narratives untrue
live to be the greatest
or fated worthless in all i do
i don’t mind her intrusion
i don’t mind the rosy hue
or blushing with profusion
as she casts shame on all i do
but sister superbia you are not welcomed
sister acedia leave me too
gloria and ira left with avarice
and then there were only two
depression brings inspiration
depression she is my muse
but her sisters present distraction
and obscure her from my view

~wwb

coulda woulda shoulda

today was supposed to be different
today was supposed to be good
greeted the morning with possibilities
and laid my head down in shoulds

today was supposed to be better
how did it get so far away?
today has just left me fettered
to the guilt of yesterday

~wwb

an idea for a haiku

ideas escape
dissipate like morning dew
feast on the manna

~wwb

that night in Fawn-Brook

straining for the light in the distance
like children lost in the dark
like that night in Fawn-Brook woods
hands wet with sweat on damp bark
arms erect in front of me
trying hard find my way, any way at all
arms, any arms to protect me
or maybe just catch me before i crawl
i felt so small and i still do
next to you
alone beneath the shadows and tall trees
or eye to chin again with you
that night in Fawn-Brook, somehow
i made my way back to the fire
the only place the cold dissipates
and along with it desire, desire
for safety, kinship, for perfection,
protection from all sides of the night
heart in my throat, feigning,
straining or restraining in the light?

~wwb

Sermon on the Plane

blessed is the child who lays
her head tonight on concrete
for hers are the streets of gold

blessed is the man who begs
each morn on 5th & elm street
for a banquet will be bestowed…

on the mother who would cry
herself to sleep if it were safe
at night for her to close her eyes

her sorrow will be turned to
laughter
on the day that death has died

blessed are you when others
hate you, defame you
because your love don’t look the same

as the love for me
that I don’t see
but they continue to claim

hear this declaration from the plane
pockets deep now with riches
will be laid in shallow graves

bellies full of food and laughter
will be left with nothing
like those they’ve cast away

~wwb

*Inspired by the Sermon on the Plane

Till We Both Have Faces

selective memory
trade you this for that
remember when the earth was flat?
i’d run with you
till we both fell off

collective sensory
was it so compact?
lost in any means of contact
lie here with you
till both our souls are lost

her face obscured
by the fire side
lost in a part of me that died
breathing in
all the life she had to give

we’d face those fears
with shallow pride
lost in a sense of self that’s tied
to fragile lives
that were never ours to give

~wwb

Descent Within (and Back)

if i could speak at the speed of thought
have a cent for all the time i’ve bought
or just be the me you think you’ve lost
maybe i could see this through

if i could see past the hurt i’ve caused
or just let go of all the time we’ve lost
if i could believe in freedom at any cost
but there’s some things i can’t do

i’ve chosen to swim in this sea of loss
and i’ve hung my head upon this cross
what heart will i throw my arms across
when there’s no one left to run to?

so i’ll push you till all strength is lost
so fucking kick and hit and spit across
and i’ll paint a me that’s free of gloss
in hatred’s darkest hue

but that will never do for you i’m caught
you somehow see the me you sought
and this other me that i have brought
is something you see through

and all these nights that i have wrought
for the death of a life we’ve forged i’ve fought
to make you think it’s all for naught
but nothing could undue

love’s gentle hue, as you gaze across
and there’s a sunrise on my sea of loss
you lift my bones from this old cross
like when it all was new

i’d say you saved the me you sought
and give you praise, for i once was lost
beneath a heart so hard and fraught
but that would be half true

you gave me, me at freedom’s cost
by waiting for me to seek, you sought
and i’m better now than the me i lost
since you let me come to you

~wwb

my pericope

watching the fire burn and I yearn
for anyone to just hear my story
stomach churns and embers burn
where are you? my morning glory?

gone with the sun-set and I fret…
that this may be the only, time I get
to tell the story and fall from glory
and the dissidence of this subset

my pericope, my enemy, the only
story that I may really ever know
the death of me, the rest of me
lying, but inside, I am  dying slow

~wwb

Job’s Song Pt. 1

what do you know about this struggle?
what do you know about my trouble?
it all fell apart just to keep me humble?
nonsense you dispense and mumble
i’m watching my whole world crumble
vindicated excavated ‘neath the rubble
one day, i’ll be; for now i see double
vision blurred since the world tumbled
and you fumble for anything convincing
had my attention and i was listening
tried to crush what was left within me
my day in court no one to defend me
except for my righteous indignation
investigation in light of this situation
of god’s vision or twisted imagination
curse and die? i’m close to reevaluation

~wwb