Dodging dogma ninjas

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Strugglin'

Ol' Eve was said to fall for that lil' apple
(original thought 'n' action disturb, baffle),
fellatin' passive Adam by the lap pool;
'gals are Serpent's ruin', a sin falafel.
We're strugglin' through the mythos of our parties
we're losin' gospel truths that never rang true.
If life prompts metaphysical pilates
then faith is surely meant to stretch, extend you.

Among the patriarchs and vengeful judges
Noah, Abe, 'Zac, Mo, Dan, Josh, Joe, etc.,
left-handed Ehud fibs and feints and fudges,
his blade sev'rin' fat ol' king Eglon's viscera.
We're tip tap toe-in' through the tattered scriptures
where harlots and assassins dance lambadas.
Where lit'ralist fundos train their dogma ninjas,
secure in intellectual Masadas.

Post-Messianic construction, epic dustbins,
we soon lose sight of Yeshua the rabbi.
Pourin' out his spirit into faded wineskins,
we water down his message. Drown his God's eye.
We're strugglin' hard to reclaim ethic's solace.
We wave off drowning refugees as tragic.
The golden rule's ground down by deficit molars.
We abuse the weak: a perverse, punishin' magic.

Lacking rational mystics (heads, hearts and voices)
working here and now, sans divination,
we cann'balise our venal little choices, in a
rapidfire, stained glass defenestration.
We're bringin' roosters home; crow red denial.
We're salivatin' over mammon's menu.
We're hangin' round, bowls blurtin' in betrayal.
Golgotha's altruism's final venue.

We're strugglin' through the human aspiration.
Divinity comes down to partial vision.
If life's a gift, then judgment's a donation
and faith's a glass of water; home's a mission.
We're sloggin' through the mud that leads to glory,
The Christchild refugee's across our shoulders.
The monkey wrench we hobble on is gory
with congealed beliefs; agape's ember smoulders.

–Barry Gittins

 

Thrifty Psalms

O LORD
I'm shivering
Isn't this enough?
I have seen a hundred
Little Jobs
And taken none
To heart

O LORD
I want to go straight
The straightest, thinnest path
You can give me
Do I take it as a challenge
Or in joy?

O LORD
What
Is
A
'Personal
Landscape'
How can I not have one?

O LORD
Why can't we both be licked
By Devil or by Lamb?

O LORD
Why have you
Divided the nations?
And the rent is
The same pay for
Each glassy house?
We will learn to
Understand inequality
But where does this leave us
To live?

O LORD
The sand is full of imperfections
Of particles, of texture
Where can we stand so that we can lean
Upon your love?

O LORD
Tortured by throbbing
Guilt
And for this
I thank you

O LORD
Let me function
With One and All

O LORD
Born and lost
In a day
Won't offend you

O LORD
Destroy the part of me
That wants her to fail
Wants her to myself
In revolt to your making

O LORD
Let me eat away
From my internal suffering
And that of the prophets
Amen

O LORD
The shadow
Of my arm hairs
Will spell out my next move

O LORD
This luxury
Of lies
We built
Is a greater kingdom
In wealth than most see
Give me the patience
Not to undermine it
Congeal my thoughts

O LORD
Rear my sister
For the world
Not for worms

–Matthew Davies 


Barry Gittins headshotBarry Gittins is a Melbourne writer. 


 

Matthew Davies headshotMatthew Davies is a writer and blogger from Brisbane. He has been published in Cottonmouth, Page Seventeen and Skive Magazine. 


Topic tags: new australian poems, Barry Gittins, Matthew Davies, religion

 

 

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Existing comments

What a way to start the day/Listening to all Barry and Matt say!
Pam | 25 September 2012


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