if faith were a mustard seed i would have planted it by now.
if faith were a car i would have lost my license somehow.
if faith was a job i'd be fired without pay, for my overtime.
if faith was a play id stubble onstage forgetting my next line.
if doubt was the ground id be standing up.
trying to get my wings.
flapping like some unseamly flamingo, able but not a visually pleasing flier.
inhabited by ghost of the past.
last man standing.
forgotten but not forgetting.
no regrets but regretting.
"caught and spinning in a wave to far out to be saved,
dazed yet not unfazed by this sense of aspiration."
to quote myself from a different space station.
earth i think ive landed.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Friday, March 10, 2006
pseudonyme
whats that?
oh its reactional not factual.
your writtings heritical to its own words.
repeat the same phrase three times.
coco lines ur pockets with pretty compliments,
try a mint ur words arent fresh.
or dope or any of the things these 'artist' tell u
in there means to grope every lack of scope there perception hopes to approach.
poetry?!?!? cant possibly see into the possiblity that he just swallows christianty then spits it back patheticly. take this from i the pseudonyme. i heard better words from a child of three.
take ur pen and choke it.
thats not a poet, and he dont know it.
thats not a poet, and he dont know it.
thats not a poet, and he dont know it.
oh its reactional not factual.
your writtings heritical to its own words.
repeat the same phrase three times.
coco lines ur pockets with pretty compliments,
try a mint ur words arent fresh.
or dope or any of the things these 'artist' tell u
in there means to grope every lack of scope there perception hopes to approach.
poetry?!?!? cant possibly see into the possiblity that he just swallows christianty then spits it back patheticly. take this from i the pseudonyme. i heard better words from a child of three.
take ur pen and choke it.
thats not a poet, and he dont know it.
thats not a poet, and he dont know it.
thats not a poet, and he dont know it.
Monday, February 13, 2006
What has happened to America's Jesus?
By Rob Borsellino Mon Feb 13, 7:12 AM ET
I remember when Jesus Christ was about religion.
That goes back to when he was caring and compassionate all the time, not just during the political campaign season.
He used to bring people together and give them hope. He wouldn't have his people get in your face and tell you to fight gay rights or you'll burn in hell. That's not what he was about. That's not the Jesus who made folks such as Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson rich and famous. He was a different guy from the 21st-century American Jesus Christ.
When I recently visited Sicily, Italy, the old Jesus was all over the place. His statue was on the counter at the restaurant and the coffee house. His image was on the wall at the clothing store and in the hotel lobby. And there was a huge painting of him on the side of an apartment building.
Sometimes he was with his mom and dad, and sometimes he was sitting with his pals - the apostles. Mostly he was hanging from the cross. Whatever he was up to, it was all about religion.
It was interesting because I didn't go to Sicily looking for a religious experience. I went looking for what's left of my family. My grandfather and his brother came to the United States in 1904 and left behind their parents and two sisters. The sisters had kids, grandkids, great grandkids.
I never met any of those people, and I knew nothing about Sicily except the obvious - pizza and the Mafia. My wife thought it was time to connect. She made some calls and let the family know we were coming.
We landed in Palermo, got our bags and were met by my cousin Peppino Rizzuti, who was holding a handwritten sign with my name on it.
He was there with three other cousins. They hooked us up with more family and spent the next seven days driving us all over the island and stuffing us with mozzarella, prosciutto, olives and about 50 kinds of pasta.
My cousin Maria made the sign of the cross before she ate. My cousin Antonio's car had a figurine of a saint on the dashboard. My cousin Gian Marco had a beautiful cross hanging from his neck.
But nobody was going on about God, Jesus and religion. It didn't come up. I saw all that and was reminded that you can be a decent person - a good son, husband and father - and still oppose the war in
Iraq. You can be a caring, thoughtful member of your community and still question whether Justice
Samuel Alito should have been confirmed. Jesus won't get mad at you.
Several times during the week, I thought about telling my family what's happened to Jesus in the United States - how he's been kidnapped by politicians and preachers who decide what he does and doesn't think. They speak for him, and it doesn't always make sense.
They say Jesus is "pro life," but he doesn't seem to have a problem with the death penalty. And he thinks stem cell research - something that would save lives - is no different from murdering babies. They say he's the embodiment of kindness, love, decency and compassion. But he hates gays, lesbians and Muslims. And he's not too crazy about Buddhists, Hindus and the rest. Jews? He can put up with them if he has to.
The Rev. Fred Phelps of the Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka claims to speak for Jesus and goes around the country talking about how "
AIDS cures fags." Pat Robertson says it would be a good idea if the United States killed the president of Venezuela. It would be a lot cheaper than starting another war.
All week I went over that stuff in my head and decided not to mention any of it to the family.
It would make America look ridiculous.
Rob Borsellino is a columnist for The Des Moines Register and author of So I'm talkin' to this guy ...
I remember when Jesus Christ was about religion.
That goes back to when he was caring and compassionate all the time, not just during the political campaign season.
He used to bring people together and give them hope. He wouldn't have his people get in your face and tell you to fight gay rights or you'll burn in hell. That's not what he was about. That's not the Jesus who made folks such as Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson rich and famous. He was a different guy from the 21st-century American Jesus Christ.
When I recently visited Sicily, Italy, the old Jesus was all over the place. His statue was on the counter at the restaurant and the coffee house. His image was on the wall at the clothing store and in the hotel lobby. And there was a huge painting of him on the side of an apartment building.
Sometimes he was with his mom and dad, and sometimes he was sitting with his pals - the apostles. Mostly he was hanging from the cross. Whatever he was up to, it was all about religion.
It was interesting because I didn't go to Sicily looking for a religious experience. I went looking for what's left of my family. My grandfather and his brother came to the United States in 1904 and left behind their parents and two sisters. The sisters had kids, grandkids, great grandkids.
I never met any of those people, and I knew nothing about Sicily except the obvious - pizza and the Mafia. My wife thought it was time to connect. She made some calls and let the family know we were coming.
We landed in Palermo, got our bags and were met by my cousin Peppino Rizzuti, who was holding a handwritten sign with my name on it.
He was there with three other cousins. They hooked us up with more family and spent the next seven days driving us all over the island and stuffing us with mozzarella, prosciutto, olives and about 50 kinds of pasta.
My cousin Maria made the sign of the cross before she ate. My cousin Antonio's car had a figurine of a saint on the dashboard. My cousin Gian Marco had a beautiful cross hanging from his neck.
But nobody was going on about God, Jesus and religion. It didn't come up. I saw all that and was reminded that you can be a decent person - a good son, husband and father - and still oppose the war in
Iraq. You can be a caring, thoughtful member of your community and still question whether Justice
Samuel Alito should have been confirmed. Jesus won't get mad at you.
Several times during the week, I thought about telling my family what's happened to Jesus in the United States - how he's been kidnapped by politicians and preachers who decide what he does and doesn't think. They speak for him, and it doesn't always make sense.
They say Jesus is "pro life," but he doesn't seem to have a problem with the death penalty. And he thinks stem cell research - something that would save lives - is no different from murdering babies. They say he's the embodiment of kindness, love, decency and compassion. But he hates gays, lesbians and Muslims. And he's not too crazy about Buddhists, Hindus and the rest. Jews? He can put up with them if he has to.
The Rev. Fred Phelps of the Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka claims to speak for Jesus and goes around the country talking about how "
AIDS cures fags." Pat Robertson says it would be a good idea if the United States killed the president of Venezuela. It would be a lot cheaper than starting another war.
All week I went over that stuff in my head and decided not to mention any of it to the family.
It would make America look ridiculous.
Rob Borsellino is a columnist for The Des Moines Register and author of So I'm talkin' to this guy ...
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
everything will change...........
i think the porcee-line porcupine is close to getting me.
tick, tap, pitter pat.
his foot steps. my heart.
if u start to look down from up here
u can see the world.
unfurled like a garden.
cars driving across each country.
blue stone garden ocean.
let me swim in stone.
tick, tap, pitter pat.
i should jump.
porcee-line porcupine is close to getting me.
he's red i think.
or black like the devil.
and no ur words silly devil cant take her.
hopefully ur rants cant break her.
hopefully ur rants wont brake her.
put down the bottle for me.
u lost ur continuity.
u lost ur infinity. i lost whats pretty. damn flower.
i live in the city, and the wolf is still bangin the door and ur grandmother.
search her body. dead body.
as long as u think im thin.
prostituting little brothers. K of diamonds.
Vendetta! Rigotta. Gotta get cream of wheat and ferris wheels.
this makes since to somebody
or my favorite body.
scatter cover smother skin cold. the way i like it.
it wasnt the best, but still my favorite.
porcee-line porcupine. tick, tap, pitter, pat.
his steps, my heart.
cart me away, down the steps.
i cant explain the flower. dance fucker. dance.
let me back, ill be a good puppy.
oh wait i bite.
coffee. 2 days awake.
coffee. 2 days asleep.
porcee-line porcupine, looks at me in my sleep.
pokes me when im awake. ruby eyes.
i couldnt hate u as much as i do.
crucify ur self daily, doesnt make me a martyr.
fine, take a stone altar, it doesnt alter my feelings.
wake up.
is the dreams the dreams.....
doubtful philisophic coco calls.
bowling balls roll, i didnt mean to keep winning.
dont break up with me in my sleep.
it wakes me up confused.
dream to awake.
My god its pretty up here.
if i was a gardener. id make the prettiest world uve ever seen.
preen cut shape. grapes not as good as the last.
eggs of candy.
dream to awake
porcee-line porcupine there either way.
there's something about the hand writting
that made me keep every scrap.
lap. top.
different life u dream of different things.
like being happy.
I want to take u far from the cynics in this town.
its not the first time ive said this. i promise.
i. a promise keepers aftermath.
ive found a golden path, its made of silver.
beautiful slivers.
hearts, hands, crowns. its just like heaven.
in the real world. chaps. chapman.
lets go. ill wear the red cape this time.
give me a 6 pack of fruit cups and a gallon of kerosine,
give me 2 jello puddin pops and a can of lube.
and ill get this party started.
not that funny, but funny enough.
u shouldnt listen any more. go back to sleep.
"and kiss u on the mouth."
Friday, January 27, 2006
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