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Blue Spider's Coffee House

Truth, Love, Beauty and all things Virtuous

Month

April 2013

Poem No. 6: Heavy Cream No. 2

Oh my pretty little ones
And my lovely perishable things of time
Adios to all mis amigos that glitter and shine
Under an erring Mortal sun

Say goodbye to the dust
Break through the red,red
decaying rust;
Shun the undead
Avoid processes that cause one to unlive;
Tug, pull, push and shake
But most of all give
More than you take

Poem #5: Julian the Apostate

I am the great apostate
Staying up early
Waking up always late;
Unrestrained
Thoughts, wondering about
Unfettered, uncoupled and unchained;
Even if they be cruel
Causing wanton suffering, senseless pain
I foolishly trust all of my favorite sins
to my spirit thus they be ruled.

They’re always coming and going
Never ever staying for the fame,
For the destined glory
Angels and Demons alike
Playing out my cemented fateful story
upon open air stages,in inked stained pages
selling out for very small-like tiny wages

Babylon and Rome are now burning
And yet who can put out the debt
Of an insatiable,
unwary desire and yearning;
This too shall be
the penultimate epithet
Read around a roaring campfire
And a ceaselessly burning pulpit
From the mischievous waxed lips
of a pretty little precocious poppet

For the promise of an endless surfeit sunshine
Behind the metallic gilded gate
Stands me, Julian the cheap and lonely Apostate
Ushering in the glow of our
Unsettled turbulent Pagan times;

Marching us off to war,
Driven by a well-marketed,
passionate tirade,
They get us all dolled up
for their spankingly grand licentious Parades;
Sending our inconvenient little ones
Off on their merry and aimless “modern” ways;

Now that the end is near
Oh me!, Oh my!
Oh dear! I See the wake of my
Timed out apostasy;
All I got was spooled illusion
for my less than ambitious,
ridiculously placed
confusion,
It was not just the dope
That went all up
in the fiery smoke
But it’s the offering,
the smaterring, the flattering
of all that false hope
Dashed and scattered
in the grey and dying ashes
of frightfully contrived
echoes and splashes.

The Wisdom of Heber Hansen No. 9: Little Things

Sometimes when I consider what tremendous consequences that come from the little things–a chance word, a tap on the shoulder, a penny dropped on a newstand, I am tempted to think there are no little things.–Bruce Barton

Tennyson: The Word Incarnate

Tho’ truths in manhood darkly join,
Deep-seated in our mystic frame,
We yield all blessing to the name
Of Him that made them current coin;

For Wisdom dealt with mortal powers,
Where truth in closest words shall fail,
When truth embodied in tale
Shall enter in at lowly doors.

And so the Word had breath, and wrought
With human hands the creed of creeds
In loveliness of perfect deeds,
More strong than all poetic thought;

Which he may read that binds the sheaf,
Or builds the house, or digs the grave,
And those wild eyes that watch the wave
In roaring round the coral reef.

-Alfred Tennyson

Incarnation

Blow cold against the flame
Throw sand upon the spark;
You cannot keep the Light
From shining in the dark.

Hunt out the heedless head,
And swing the acid knife;
You cannot abrogate
The ever-will full Life.

Immure the hallowed Word,
Bring faggot, rack, and rope;
You cannot blur the Faith
You cannot blunt the Hope.

No matter how untamed
Your ill intent may run,
You cannot stop the Pulse
That beats behind the Sun.

–Edith Lovejoy Pierce

The gods we want and the Devil We Don’t Know

“It is characteristic of our age that people want to have God, but do not want to have the Devil. People are inventing gods for themselves….But they are gods who do not demand much of them, and they are certainly not gods who punish, although they are allowed to reward. On the contrary, their gods absolve them from conflict and doubt, massage them, pat them on the head, and, rather like their parents, tell them to run along….So easy it is to love! But above all they are gods who will not trouble them with the fact of evil. The problems of evil, suffering, and death are not confronted, but evaded and dismissed….Universal harmony has never been offered so cheaply before.–The Seven Deadly Sins Today, Henry Fairlie, p. 15-16.

Sin and Understanding That We Count

“There is something enlivening in this [the concept of sin], which reminds us that our lives,to a degree that counts, are always ours to make; that we may still choose to be more whole; that there is more and better in us, on which we can call, than we have chosen to become. The understanding that we sin is a summons to life.”–The Seven Deadly Sins Today, Henry Fairlie

Poetry Month Poem #4: Ooch ah! Ooch ah! Doin’ the backwards sneeze (Huskies Do It!)

Well I never ever heard of such a thing

Poor boy, so far from his native home

Foreign airs, strange passing grasses,

and that there not so humble,

double fudged bumblest bee sting

 

Swelled up so big and got so puffed up

But that wasn’t the worse of it all

For when his first attack made

the meanest sort of house call

I darn near lost my lil’ saucer

And the tiniest of me lil’ tea cups

 

Me, I never was so surprised by any such tortured sound

So I inquired: “Son, what do they call that there ooching and ahing?”

 It took him a while to think but he finally did get round

“Sir, I am a modern man and I typically do my own boasting and jawing,

 

But today, without airs, I refer this item to our new animal doctor

To whom diagnosed my pet with such ease, with such precise expertise

And told me of a strange traveler from a distant sea, an unbeknownst shore

The one and only, troubled and trebled: backwards sneeze.

An Ode to Water

A good poem. Capture my feeling yesterday as we went road trippin and view some of peaceful lakes in the Eastern Sierras.

Passages

ImageI love the humility of water.

The way it assumes the shape of its host;

the honesty of its transparency.

I love the patience of water.

The constant ebb and flow of the tide;

the constancy of its breath.

I love the strength of water.

The ability to erode and wear-away;

over time or in an instant of dramatic fury.

I love the freedom of water.

The ability to accommodate resistance;

to negotiate; to seek a better way.

I love the loyalty of water.

The capillary action that leaves no drop behind;

the community it creates in its inseparability.

I love the spirituality of water.

The protuberance of spirit;

the abundance of life force.

I love the forgiving properties of water.

Its ability to cleanse the past

and renew the future.

I love the beauty of water.

The radiance mirrored in its reflection;

the depth and breath of its mystery.

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