Coffee

The Chidren are dying in Uganda:
torture, murder, rape
Can I trade in my Honda:
Escalade, Passat, Escape

A young man will not be home again
It’s just his body that’s coming back
I really like the Escalde
Could I see one in black?

HIV and STD
No clean water left to drink
The SUV with DVD
That’s the one I think

Sad Songs and rainy days:
Things that used to make me smile
Cold Coffee and my own way:
Things I must give up a wile

As the New year approaches I mourn the state world affairs and the passing of of a young man from my home town. Most of all I mourn my lack of prayer and care for the world around me.

This New Year I want to do more than just bitch about the way the world is. I want to be part of changing it for the better. This will mean giving up some things. I have not the money to throw away on a new Passat (admittedly my dream car). However, I can start by drastically reducing my intake of iced latte’ and frappuccinos (admittedly my favorites). I don’t know what all of those things are yet but I am working on it.

And there are things I can do. I can love. I can lend a hand an ear. I can give of my time my resources my my prayers.

Please check out the links above and pray – if nothing else please pray. As Tobyone reminds us: if we only reflect within we deflect the world around us (Thanks man).

Shalom,
Wayne

Beauty in the Swamp (Emerging)

There is an army of ants
circling around my bed
They want to march on my leg
and have a picnic in my head
There is a green witch in the back yard
She wears a black robe with a train
She sits on a burning chair
labeled the sacred and profane

I’m going to Los Angeles
but what’s in a name
A city in any other place
would still glow the same

There is a highway in the front yard
I hope to take it anywhere but fear
But everything I ever hated
will follow me from here

there are spies in the kitchen
There’s an emergency in the air
I’m sick of doing nothing
Doing something can’t compare

There is liberation in the water
Where gnomes and witches can never go
but they stand on the banks
and hope to pacify those who know

We’ve been laboring over language
digging beneath the petis and the moss
Waiting for the music
to convey a feeling that’s been lost
waiting for a place to break bread
while some just stood by weeping
Maybe the true remnant has been keeping watch
while the rest of us were sleeping

wwb