Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Sunday's Best

One Thousand Faces dressed in haste
Sundays best is left to taste
the hardest task I ever faced
was not to steal what they replaced

Drink the cool-aid everyone
the blood of God in simple pun
break the body of his son
forgive yourself for what you've done

Be careful dthat you don't expose
The skeletons that noone knows
Every thorn must have a rose
and preacher has his prose.

One week down and more to go
make sure to greet those you don't know
and laugh like you enjoyed the show
Cuz if you reap,
You might just sow.

Thursday, April 2, 2009


"They were pilgrims, for they had resigned, for ever, what the good hold most dear -- their homes. Home can never be transferred; never repeated in the experience of an individual. The place consecrated by parental love, by the innocence and sports of childhood, by the first acquaintance with nature; by the linking of the heart to the visible creation, is the only home. There there is a living and breathing spirit infused into nature: every familiar object has a history -- the trees have tongues, and the very air is vocal. There the vesture of decay does not close in and control the noble functions of the soul. It sees and hears and enjoys without the ministry of gross material substance." excerpt from 'Hope Leslie' by Catharine Maria Sedwick

It doesn't matter how restless I claim my soul is. It doesn't matter where my travels take me or what adventures I may find. My home will never release its claim.