Malachi Speaks Again

The ancient prophets were a rough and gnarly lot 

that observed the society around them with divine clarity 

and spoke bluntly about what they saw.

Blind Lust is a Fool to Wanton Gaze

Blind lust is a fool to wanton gaze

At emptiness tricked out to daze

Not heeding the emptiness within.

What soul lies behind those wanton eyes,

Decked out with death and dead’ning lies?

That breast uplifted, those silken thighs,

Those welcoming arms, those hidden harms,

Bid the blind unwary enter in.

The fool enters through the gate of pleasure

Tasting the lascivious fruit of sin,

Not seeing death its hidden treasure.

Blind lust is a fool to wanton gaze

At emptiness tricked out to daze,

Heeding not the nothingness within.

Remember that “death lies close by the gate of pleasure,”

at least certain types of pleasure.

Lecher Priest

God save us all, we have a lecher priest

Whose every word and smile is oily sweet,

Whose love denying love is just a cheat,

Whose words and actions show his inner beast.

He did not start thus, no, not in the least.

He once longed with ev’ry trembling heartbeat

To be a star, to be a true athlete,

Presiding at the altar and the feast.

His heart was never silver, only tin,

His feet were partly iron, partly clay

When he began to show the beast within.

Hidden within his heart was sad dismay

And all alone he faced his inner sin.

Where was the Church upon that fateful day?

Let Them Be Called Anathema:

Priests, Princes, Prophets, People

Ezekiel 22:23-31

Anywhere we go throughout this jaded land

The faithless huddle in buildings made of stone,

Or brick, or board; their houses built on sand,

Crustacean shells for flesh and blood and bone

Shielding those who flee from God’s clear command.

There’s no life, no living among such dead,

No prophetic voices, no angelic singing,

No humble hearts for whom the Blood was shed.

Bishops, priests, deacons, people, cry no bitter tear.

All alike to the wicked world are clinging,

They will reap the whirlwind and despair.

Ichabod!  Their glory has departed!

They have no future, their past’s beyond repair.

Lo! They reject the Word with hearts undaunted.

To them the Word of God is clear,

 “These things you have done, and I have been silent; 

you thought that I was one like yourself. 

But now I rebuke you and lay the charge before you.”   

-- Psalm 50:21 ESV 

The Wicked Nod and Smile

The wicked nod, smiling ever sweetly

And the simple smile in glad return

Not knowing those wicked smiles will burn.      

Even though the wicked man acts comely

His hidden intent is often deadly.

To control you alone his heart doth yearn,

For this he labours, that your heart should churn.

He controls when he treats you cruelly,

For he knows when you by fears are ridden

His own fears may be quietly hidden.

Wicked is as wicked does, smiles mean nothing,

Control is all. Over you he’s flaunting

Usurpation of your private power

For when you are weaker, he is stronger.

Always write what you know?  

This is one of the things I know; 

that there are wicked men and women, 

even as there are many who are good.  

Sometimes what you don’t know can hurt you. 

In Days of Death and Poetry and Awe

In days of death and poetry and awe,   

Not in the flesh but in the soul I saw

A scaly thing clutch the dying as he fell

With shrieking curse, midst stench and brimstone smell.

It’s course was rudely stopped by golden wing.

The man sprang free and soaring rose on high.

The roaring demon fell earthward with a cry,

The man released from bonds began to sing.

Christ’s blood had interposed and set him free,

That gracious blood was shed for you and me.

Released from shadowlands we will be,

To stand in light beside a golden sea,

And walk in flesh upon a golden shore,

And with our King rejoice for evermore.

The Trumpet

What glad trumpet shall my soul awaken

When the pillars of the earth are shaken?

What resonating tones will sound

Gathering all my moldy bones around?

What ringing cry shall tear asunder

Heaven and Earth in awesome wonder?

Shall I be glad?  Shall you be sad?

When the angels come to sort the good, the bad?

Surely, clearly, when all is said and done,

When eternity’s new day has now begun,

Naught of human evil shall endure

But only those whose humble hearts are pure.

He seeks the poor, the maimed, the halt, the blind,

He calls home the ones whose tender hearts are kind.