Words

‘Words’  first appeared in ‘Headpiece Filled with Straw

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Words

Mary’s mindful miracle maybe miss leading
Bethlehem’s bastard boy born beneath a star
stored and stacked in a stingy stinkin’ stable
but beautiful boy became big
and bashed backward backsliding bureauracy
the Christ cross-bearer crushed and crusted in crimson blood
suffered surrendered secured the senseless sin of this sinister world
pierced in the possibility of peace per person personifying personal piety
earnestly eagerly enthusiastically encouraging an encounter with eternity

Mary’s mindful miracle of mercy merely means
perfection passion peace pardon paradise



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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

‘Bristol or Bust’ report

Dear friends old and new.

With much joy I sit here this misty Klaipėda Friday morn with a strong cuppa coffee (Dutch style), jazz music and my tired laptop to endeavour to offer some kind of report from the aforementioned poetry tour.

The tour stared with the warm-up gig in a well coffee’ed Klaipėda cafe, moved onto to Dublin, Coleraine, Glasgow, Liverpool, Walsall, London, Bristol and finally finished of at a University back in Klaipėda.

Not only was it a trip of poetry, but it was also for me a trip of people and relationships. In Dublin I stayed with a friend of whom I had not seen for fifteen years, in Coleraine I met for the first time the wives of some dear friends. Glasgow provided hearty hugging old friends and good Lithuanian friends. In Liverpool everyone and everything was new, Walsall was back to old friends from ten years past. London not only produced old friends and Lithuanian friends, I also got to gig with my brother-in-law. Bristol was all new friends followed by a lovely Somerset hill walk. I think this naturally shy village kid liked the people side the most.

God was extremely kind to me with all the travelling. Thanks to all of you who actually got me to the stations, much earlier than most people need. I had trouble from Birmingham to London where I found my self on the wrong train to the right place and again in London where I was asked where I wanted to buy my ticket too and sheepishly answered “I don’t know”. But other than that I loved the trains and the space to re-charge.

To the gigs. I was so so nervous in Dublin and Coleraine, but was blessed with very warm and enthusiastic crowds. Glasgow, loosed me up as Glasgow does, the raucous laughter spurring me on. My first ever poetry injury took place in Glasgow, I woke up with a blister on my tongue and had an interesting time explaining this to a West End chemist. By the time I got to Liverpool I was in my stride, but was rather hampered by that blister, or specifically the side affects of my blister ointment,  a rather numb tongue.

Walsall had me excited, this was a double gig day. My Dutch friends must have been praying that God give me a good audience, because the entire afternoon gig was populated with glorious, focused Dutch students. This was definitely a highlight. The evening gig saddled me up with a couple of rappers and a very good poet. Then the country kid ventured onto the big city, London. In London I was relaxed, enjoyed old and new friends and a great venue. Finally onto the official final gig in the beautiful city of Bristol. The gig went very well, I think God was up to other things here, perhaps a knitting of relationships with compatible people.

My warm-up gig in Klaipėda was absolutely horrible so with some fear I turned up for my unofficial final gig at LCC international university. This gig went really well and I was blessed to have a very warm international audience.

One of my fears was running at a loss. I can happily say that not only did I cover costs, but I also managed to buy a cheap ebook reader. This was much needed for the viewing and creating of my ebooks. Also I found myself with enough money left over to buy some school art supplies for a friend and hopefully some good Lithuanian teenage books for some other friends.

I am presently in the throws of cutting my mp3 tracks, before starting on the video clips, some of these may be available soonish. Would anybody be interested in a ‘Bristol or Bust’ ebook? I am not sure if I should create one or not.

The tour was a fantastic experience where I learned heaps. Thank you so much to all of you who hosted, performed, turned-up or prayed, it really was a blessed trip. I still feel very called to pastor and be a friend of orphans and will not be chucking in my day job, however I think it is possible that I will tour again, perhaps this time in Belgium and The Netherlands. I also have a dream of a Berlin gig.

If you would like to receive my ‘late for supper’ (my writing and art) newsletter please let me know.

Also pleaseclick here to see some of the photos.

Again thanks very much everyone, I enjoyed your company very much.

Cheers Kel

Bricks Upon Bricks

Bricks Upon Bricks‘ was ‘Highly Commended‘ in the ‘Level 3 Advanced’ section of the FaithWriters writing challenge. USA 2011.

Also to read the lovely comments and critiques that this poem has received, read the original version at FaithWriters

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Bricks upon Bricks

One, two and three
thud, thud & thud
bricks upon bricks
Babel’s rubble raises again.

I once used my fingers
then stored the answers in my head
grew into a calculator
now I google instead.

One, two and three
thud, thud & thud
bricks upon bricks.

Map books and rulers
arithmetic and thinking
all necessary for calculating distance
plug it in and bing.com you have your answer.

One, two and three
thud, thud & thud
bricks upon bricks.

Those lovely road maps
from a bygone era
getting directions
search.yahoo.com.

One, two and three
thud, thud & thud
bricks upon bricks.

Community nurses
neighbour’s remedies
mother’s wisdom
health problems, just ask.com.

One, two and three
thud, thud & thud
bricks upon bricks.

Anything, anything at all
forget the encyclopaedia
and other lowly things
lift your eyes up, altavista.com.

One, two and three
thud, thud & thud
bricks upon bricks.

Soon brainless
with stubby fingers
our dollar will read
‘in Google we trust’.

Then one, two three
thud upon thud
Babelling bricks will fall
and search-engines will tower no longer.

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

Silly Not-On

Men with balls, spectators with none.
Sport flourishes in the absence of war.
Australia experiencing an historic Ashes loss.
Whilst New Zealand rejoices in an English victory.
It is silly not-on racism.

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

Rodelio and Rohelio

~12th Place Editor’s Choice Award

‘Rodelio and Rohelio’ won 3rd place the ‘Level 3 Advanced’ section of the FaithWriters writing challenge. USA 2011.

Also to read the lovely comments and critiques that this poem has received, read the original version at ‘FaithWriters‘.

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Rodelio and Rohelio
part 1

In a Cebuano village
under palms, papaya and poverty
Rodelio and Rohelio
twin boys arrived in this world
innocent and free
bound in their fate

In a culture and class
where family survival
depends on healthy men
a rumour escaped
from their hessian hut
that Rodelio was beautiful
and Rohelio had club-foot

Shame and pity shrouded
in humidity and midday sun
forced Rodelio’s Dad to flee
flee to the joy and the glory
of a anxiety free
solvent tin

And me
the Joe, the white man
driven to prayer
through anger and injustice
driven to action
motived by faith
and western values

I stormed off to my doctor
told him the story
of twins born in a village slum
absent Dad, passive overwhelmed Mum
and a kid who will bring humiliation
without income or food

In a nation where affliction is normal
and goodwill to all is all too expensive
my doctor said ‘treatment is possible
but only with money’
I had faith, earnest faith
and only faith

Again we laid hands on the infant
pressed our prayers into the throne room of God
God was listening, just not answering
wounded and determined
I carried my expectations
off to the city council

Poverty ain’t precious
on a Filipino island
and the poor are paralysed
by the predicament of their situation
money moves men
and my pockets were empty
of coins and prayers

Prostrated and pain-stricken
ardently I soldiered on
to the mayor’s office
I poured out my passion
and drowned him in my sorrow
until justice was led to victory
and God got the glory

Rohelio at three days old
was going to visit the capital
sleep in a hospital
and would bring home
years of fish and rice
for his loving mother
and inebriated father

Anger subsiding, praise magnifying
justice given to a poor wean
by a God whose very child
was born into the malady of a manger.

Rodelio and Rohelio
part 2

I was earnest and sincere
loving God
obeying his call to serve the poor
and if I lived in
Liverpool, Lyon or Los Angeles
maybe here this montage could have concluded

Rohelio returned from his undertaking
wearing a healing, itching plaster-cast
the fear, pressure and all night screaming
cast the die of fate one more time

His dad returned
there in the absence of glue,
the bedlam of flowing tears
and the resulting sleeplessness
he ripped the cast off
and pronounced that this was
‘the divine will of God
for his son to have club-foot’

He might have been right
he might have been wrong
but when the boys are old enough
to slip and slide
around in the communal water pump
Rohelio will be watching
and slipping further into poverty

Rodelio and Rohelio
part 3

Rohelio, the divine will of God
is for there to be
no more death, crying and pain
for you to bathe in the waters of healing
and bask in the fountain of life
wait for your miracle
and wait for Christ’s return

And then and perhaps only then
you can explain to me
just what happened.

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

David

‘David’ was first published in ‘Blackmail Press 28‘. [ISSN 1176-4791], New Zealand. 2010.

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David

You lie there in the starkness of your understanding.
Four green walls and a lifeless gurney.
The tube down your throat sucks your history from you,
As the drugs that you use depart from your decaying body.
Detox is the intersection where your history is flushed away and your future is chosen for you.
Borstal for users and naughty boys, but not for drugs.
The court has deemed for you a childhood with a lock and key.
But David as they pump you dry and further condemn your future,
I want to reflect on the fourteen years that have got you here.

Did you ever get to call out the names Mum or Dad,
Is there any memory of them at all?
When did your heart harden,
Did it happen when you were abandoned and institutionalised?
Or did it come from being bullied and beaten, underachieving and surviving on your own?
David you are still a lovely boy, you’re still good inside,
But the barrenness of living with eighty kids has made for you some unhappy choices.
So now David the perception of your genre has moved from a problem to user and looser.
There is only God for you now.

By the way, I saw your abandoned little brother yesterday.
The poor soul was moping around as lost and lonely as ever.
The kid’s still a dreamer but now his hurt is closer to the surface.
He is too young to understand your loveless life,
But he’s old enough to follow your example.
A government paid caregiver, social worker and coach are his last line of defence,
Before he meets you on the other side behind the lock and key.

I don’t blame you David, I am angry at you and I love you, but I don’t blame you.
I don’t even blame God, let alone the system,
I am just numb from walking the tombs of hopelessness and helplessness.
Just numb from the empty lives of so many lovelorn kids.

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

Needs Met

‘Needs Met’ was first published in Side Stream.

Please forgive the quality of the scanning, I will redo it when I receive a copy of the book.

And for those of you who may be interested this is what the original version of the poem looked like. The editing and re-working of the poem was done by ‘Side Stream’.

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Needs Met

I went to visit the grave of a loved one, whose rebellious child was sucking the life out of her marriage.

I placed some flowers in the tomb beside the toaster on the kitchen table.

Then I pulled some weeds out of her grave with words of self-gratification.

Now that I have met my need to tidy up the grave of my loved one, I left her alone to die in the misery of her life.

I stopped on the way home to put the car through the car wash.

All is well God is nigh safely rest.

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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

Two-ply or not Two-ply

Of all places
that this could
have happened
it was the
toilet paper section.

Too much Mexican food
the very evening
that late night
out-of-town
guests were arriving.

He resented
being told
‘you used it,
you replace it’.

Cranking up
his beloved
F150
he rushed
into town
determined
to be home
before his wife’s
guests arrived.

Scowling
at the long
check-out lines
he barged his way
through the store.

Frustration set in
this was not
a man’s
natural environment
it took him an
eternity
to find
the
toilet paper aisle.

He had no idea
that there was
such a choice
and he knew
that he was expected
to get
the right
package.

Two-ply
or three-ply
with the cute dog
or the cute baby
forty-eight pack
or twenty-four pack
and what was this
‘aloe scented
for sensitive skin’
all about.

Sweat was beginning
to bead
from his
white straw hat
he could call home
but that was
a weakness.

Eventually
after much angst
he settled on the
twenty-four pack
with the cute dog
but then discovered
it wasn’t American made
so he quickly
put it back
didn’t want the
whole country
to be like
Detroit.

It was then
that he
noticed
he was all alone
like in the
twinkling
of an eye
everyone
had disappeared
checked out
vanished.

The frail
realisation
that
that
crazy
television
preacher
must have been
right,
the
rapture
had come,
settled in.

No point
phoning home
now
his wife and kids
were part of the
faithful
they didn’t need
toilet paper
anymore.

He was alone
totally alone
left with
the toilet paper
the thudding of his
heart
and the piped in music
that horrible music
that always sounded
like
it resided
in the elevators
of hell.

Allowing despair
to take hold
and instinctively
stroking the
roughness
of his handlebar
moustache
he contemplated
his next move.

Suddenly
he noticed
he was not
alone
a curious
little man
in a red
uniform
and
women’s
spectacles
popped his
head
around
the corner.

His spectacles
seemed to be
fogging up
he was
a little short
of breath
and clearly
perturbed.

Their eyes
met
for a
terrified
moment
as the little man said
“I am sorry
we have been
closed
for thirty minutes.
Please proceed
to the check out”.
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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.

Sunny and the Potter

Sunny
and the Potter

My name is Sunny
I’m nothing
nothing at all
it took me
five years
five long years
to graduate
and gain
my high school
leaving certificate.
Sunny
you are
fearfully
and wonderfully
made1
you are the
work of
my hands.2

Oh, people were
proud
of me
everyone was
except
my Dad
and dead Ma
they, like me,
only saw
the years
and years
of failure.

I have numbered
the hairs
on your head3
and will restore
the years
that the
locusts have eaten.4

I coped.
I am the potter.5

I screamed
in fear
and anger
as I smashed
the mirror
against the wall
then
smashed
the furniture
the plates,
bowls and glasses.

I love you
with an
everlasting love6
and will
build you up
again,7
for my perfect love
will cast out
your fear.8

Thus my life was back in order,
shattered at my feet.

Sunny
the kingdom of heaven
is yours.9

When the clouds
parted
I realised
the only
broken
thing
that day

was me.

I will heal you
bind up
your wounds10
and you can take
refuge11

in me.

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1. Psalm 139:14
2. Psalm 119:73
3. Luke 12:7
4. Joel 2:25
5. Isaiah 64:8
6. Jeremiah 31:3
7. Jeremiah 31:4
8. 1 John 4:18
9. Matthew 5:3
10. Psalms 147:3
11. Psalms 14:6
Scriptural references were sourced from Today’s New International Version.
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Thank you so much for reading ‘out for lunch’. If you would like to contribute, please do. Thanks Kel.