"We can make a ladder of our vices if we tread them underfoot." --St. Augustine

Friday, November 18, 2005

Thank You, Lord!

Today I receive a letter
which turns out to be
an official order
issued by my Father Provincial
attaching me
to the circumscription of Spain
and assigning me
to the house of the Holy Rosary Parish
at Manhattan.
Thank you, Lord!

God Is My Boss

God is my boss.
He has made me a free man
by dying for my sins.

Lord, I offer you my nothingness.
I know that out of nothing
You can, if you
will it so, create.
I'm nothing, Lord.
Without you I'm a broken vessel.
Let your Spirit breathe unto me
so I can be made whole again.

By the East River

By the East River,
here I sit down but never weep
over the misfortunes
suffered by the discarded and unloved.
Why should I not rejoice, Lord,
when Zion is just a breath away?
Let me sing your praises, Lord.
You're my boss. You do know
how to take good care of me.

Status Quo

So you want to know how I'm doing?
Nothing doing.
Solutions are sealed in the lips
of so-called friends, brethren,
colleagues, comrades at arms,
first among equals, or whatever.
I'm in a state
of suspended animation.

Lord, Are You That Far?

Lord, are you that far?
Lord, are you that unreachable?
Lord, must you remain forever silent?
Lord, must you hide your face away from us forever?
Lord, why are those ordained
to mediate between you and their fellowmen
garble your gospel of truth and love
with their pharisaical utterings?
Lord, why do some of your servants behave
like a conquering horde of puny gods, unaccountable
to no one?

Thursday, November 17, 2005


A hemisphere away
I'm stuck to bear the gridlock
in the corridor
of lukewarm indecisions.
Like the voyagers of yore,
I've always thought that nothing
changes more than the faces of the seasons;
but I've discovered none too late
that indifference, garbed in the garment
of fraternal concern,
conceals the vested mantra of autumn:
"In the name of God, in the name of God."
It's all in the name of dominion.

Unfazed and unruffled I wait
for the ocean to cover the earth,
for the earth to swallow the ocean,
for the ocean and the earth
to bring about
the Armageddon.

This Is My Second Exile

This is my second exile
from my benighted homeland.
This time the journey leads to heaven,
compassed by stars and stripes.

Who can fathom the wisdom of the Inscrutable?
Who can divine the will of the Almighty?

Thieves and usurpers,
propelled by dark angels of relativism,
tyrannize my benighted homeland.
Emboldened by the people's helplessnes,
they sow havoc and terror,
invoking God's name
as they make pact with the Devil.
When they suppress dissent,
nuns, seminarians, priests, bishops are not spared
from their water cannons.

Life has become one cheap thrill
in my benighted homeland.
Lord, how long must we endure
the reign of thieves and usurpers?

Ars Poetica

Once again I'm one
with the destitute, the exiled, the oppressed.
Of them I sing, to them I dedicate
my craft of sullen art.
What does it matter now to us, brethren?
The curse of ignorance has been broken.
We've been delivered from false convictions.
The Cross is ever nearer.
This is all that matters now.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Dark Forces Lurk Behind Me

Dark forces lurk behnd me
like overly friendly strangers
furtively plying their deadly wares
to impressionable children.
At times they titillate
the trusting and the gullible
who mistake love for greed,
the root of subhuman misery.
Sensing their terrible intent,
I keep my faith and pledge
my allegiance to my Creator.

Lord, I Can Hear You

Lord, I can hear you
in the silence of the skyscrapers
when at night they overwhelm my humanity
with their towering gravity.
I know you are just around
to hear me unburden myself in silence
because there's no other way
to express myself
and for you to listen.
It is when I hear myself in you
that I can hear you.