Thursday, January 27, 2005

Psalm 10: A Psalm of Anger and Dejection

“Why standeth thou afar off, O Lord? Why hidest thou thyself in times of trouble?”

Pt. I
Oh God,
Where are You now?
Another fine mess, and all the rest.
I am of the opinion,
Ethereal Father Figure of Ultimate Value Judgment,
that You definitely exist
but have gotten too busy
to tend to me.
These times are difficult
and, lo, I am alone.

(Is this language Psalmy enough, God,
is this the way I am to
speak to You?)

Pacify me soon.
This grammar is not
the grammar of God
that I know.
I wish to praise
and to share Joy
and some measure of Peace.
Give me one Godly thing
unfucked
so I can keep practicing
(it’ll work if I work it,
fake it til you make it,
and all that rot).
One thing, God,
unfuckedup
to convince me
the night will end.

Pt. II (less of self this go)

The poor, God, You’ve met
them. They daily come
to You by thousands, young
and old, by deficit
of food
and by surplus
of dirty water.
And You are called just.
(Please explain.)
Recent years, and all
years past,
propose a solution
to living as:
If you steal, steal big.
Our prisons are not
populated by
Chief Executive Officers.
But, God, the boss of
Krispy Kreme
makes $720 an hour.
(Remember the thousands of
poor I mentioned who die from dirty water.)
Also, God,
I presume You need
no reminding of
high rise filing cabinets
full of the disenfranchised.
And also…
Well, God, look at it,
this filthy world.
There is Wickedness,
God,
Vile as any has been.
It is hiding in every
neighborhood and
slum and
gated community.
It is a swift
and efficient
murderer of hope
and goodness and
innocence
(real & imagined).
In the churches
and office buildings
and the crackhouses
and hospitals
a losing battle
seems fought.
And why do You
stand so far
away?
Come and avenge
me of the cynicism
You’ve built into me, God.
Every few weeks I
try to get up off
the floor and remember
who You are
but, honestly, God,
this world and,
specifically,
some of Your
people in it
are kicking
my feeble
ass.
You have heard the needs
of the humble and will
prepare their hearts and
make them hear You.
Am I not humble
enough?
I don’t think I
can think less of
myself without
disappearing.
If breaking further’s
what I need to
be whole
then fucking break
me.
Or blow me out of
this dark glass
and take me home.
-that the person of earth
may no longer oppress
-

1/25-26/05

We die, we die.
First we go wet,
& then we go dry.

10 Comments:

At January 27, 2005 at 7:37 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love you. And I love how you write, and the way that I can follow those words and instead of hearing you saying them, I can actually hear myself shouting them with all earnesty toward Him. It is inexpressibly liberating, yet at the same time, so imprisoning; an ironic, yet somewhat routine, combination. Write me soon, Mars. (That is to be your nickname, for you are of otherworldy stature) I feel like we have a lot in common in these times of doubt, and what better way to let it go and watch it drift than to write and cuss and cry and laugh with one who shares that similar motive? Write me soon, Mars. write me soon.... -natalie

 
At January 28, 2005 at 6:47 AM, Blogger Dave said...

Mars, a god so warlike, full of fury, clothed in razorblades.

...

shit. you know, everytime i read one of these, i want to start doing this too, this was such a fucking good idea. but i have to stop myself, keep myself from embarrassing myself, because any attempt of mine will not capture the purity and emotion of yours. and i'll be shamed by the comparison.

would it make a difference if i told you that your contemplations may be starting to make a difference in me? nothing monumental, not a global shift of values, but a daily sort of readjustment, minor corrections, keener focus? because they are. and i am. so thanks.

 
At January 28, 2005 at 10:22 AM, Blogger Tack City said...

Thanks thanks thanks.

The Dave: What do I need to do for the Global Moral Shift? 'Cause I'll get on it, you know.

Natalie: My love for you grows and grows. You're such a unique and talented person. I'm glad I met you so early in your life. I'm convinced that it will be my extreme pleasure and blessing to watch you growing in the years to come.
P.S. Slug your brother in the arm for me (what with the "nonviolent pledge" thing, I can't do it myself).

All and Everyone: Sorry this and the previous are pretty link-light. I was in a hurry to get it posted. I might try to add some links later on to it. Speaking of, does anybody have a URL for SpringHill in OKC? I wanted to link them in the last one and couldn't find a website.

 
At January 28, 2005 at 2:55 PM, Blogger Tofflemire said...

Come and avenge
me of the cynicism
You’ve built into me, God.

Man, I've never said it, but sure have felt it.

 
At January 29, 2005 at 12:09 PM, Blogger Kelly said...

Wow, Marty. These posts always me think and I appreciate it. Good work.

 
At January 31, 2005 at 9:50 AM, Blogger Whisky Prajer said...

"Screaming Trees" - of course!! I only knew the one song, mind you. And I claim to have once been "grunge" - feh.

BTW, you might draw some cold comfort in the fact that Mr. Krispy Kreme has landed in deep frosting, thanks in no small part to their recent disastrous foray into Canada. "Saturated" market, you might say.

I like the site! Cheers.

 
At February 3, 2005 at 1:41 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I didn't read this post because I'm freaking out that I found your blog. OF COURSE you have a blog! I don't know why I didn't think to hunt you down earlier. (I googled you. Scott Jones' blog was the first list and he linked to you in his. YEA!)

Umm. So, yeah. This is me, Used-to-be-Sara Stevens. I have a pretty bitchin' blog, too, over in LiveJournal land. Are you on EllJay?

LOVE TO YOU! LOVE LOVE LOVE!

 
At February 7, 2005 at 11:01 AM, Blogger David said...

Man, I am continually impressed by your writing.

 
At February 7, 2005 at 11:01 AM, Blogger David said...

Man, I am continually impressed by your writing.

 
At February 7, 2005 at 4:08 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

If you keep up at this pace you'll never finish.

 

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