![]() HomilyA Poem by Butch Decatoria
After the preaching is
Done-finished picking at the scabs Of our guilt, At week's end / day of rest; When we almost had it gone Forgotten From our minds... It's a kinder kin to amnesia A softer fog of fugue A healing art of our brain farts, Not soaking in shame's Diminishment Or stewing in self helps "Deliver us!" bow down genuflect But then again Here we are together to gather Uncomplainingly Complacently listening Absorbing every lash Of the metaphorical whip, To be guided back to good The sermon for the humans that we know We are -- unworthy But willingly we suffer The word... On how to be just like The lamb... So afterwards, when after we've been Emotionally & verbally punctured Full of hollow We are holes unworthy Of being Made whole... Or so, we've been told It is written. So then let us meet for homily After King James harangues us His version of fellowship, Let us have verbal Intercourse with the word. Perhaps over supping Or during beer & NFL Or some blood Sport Non-emasculating Reminding us how Weekends roar And Life is Worth more Than the inner wars We are ourselves Fighting. After the sermon, Let's have true verbal Intercourse. (Without a shred of guilt.) © 2017 Butch DecatoriaReviews
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2 Reviews Added on November 3, 2016 Last Updated on January 19, 2017 Author![]() Butch DecatoriaLas Vegas, NVAbout"I cannot wait to see tomorrow, but I will live like--I just couldn't wait!" --yours truly "In The Church of (My) Life, Love is Worship" -- yours truly Lets101 Quizzes - Fun quizzes for blog .. more..Writing
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