Scot-Free (Great Scot!)

https://i1.wp.com/www.luminarium.org/encyclopedia/knoxlarge.jpg

Relighting Presbyterian roots,
God’s forest-fire convolutes…

contentious times burn heterodox.

The catholic cuckoos make their round—
strange fire and popery abound;

Deus Ex Machina winds the clocks.

Let all attend the holy skirl,
an armored tartaned highland whirl

escaping from God’s music box:

a blare of sixteenth-century pipes.
unleashes types on antitypes.
Pure Calvinistic grace unlocks

 the portal’s gate—and, opening wide,
the frightened worldlings peer inside
beholding heaven’s equinox.

We chasten the imploding West
for Bloody Mary’s crimes confessed
(upon the Catholic queen a pox)

but praise the captain of the Kirk
for interplanetary work.

(His enterprising doctrine rocks.)

in the MIX

Haiku, like Manga,
destroys the attention span

making people dumb
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Pardon My French

bacon_screaming_po_2352205b

Reformed Limericks for your erudite perusal:

You may cover the stench with a potpourri—
while you gag, as you finger your rosary.
Sacrosanct nourriture…
or decayed pourriture?
(Other patrons might label it Popery.)

Though the tepidly Protestant matron
of a church that is stagnant and state-run
does not care about Luther,
We’ll bother to truth her
with Calvin or Knox as our patron.

Though the Vatican’s bottomless coffers
make some very un-Lutheran offers,
I would rather talk Tetzel
(with beer and a pretzel)
and drink with the rebels and scoffers.

We forget that the birth of the Kirk
was a vicious, un-Catholic work
One recalls Bloody Mary…
and Knox was no faerie.
His doctrine drove Satan berserk.

Many chairmen, deficient in wit
who on flimsy theologies sit
with no justification
hate predestination,
reviling it more than a bit.

Barthelemy (in French: St. Bartholomew)
was unpleasant, as most of the martyrs knew
Roman Catholic correction
or violent deception?
In heaven, they’re getting the overview…

People gag, and then murmur the rosary
seeking solace in incense or potpourri
you must pardon my French
but this damnable stench
smells like nothing so much as like Popery.

    ♗♗♗♗♗♗♗

Rastafari live !
JAH bless all the Haiku, dem.
Haile Selassie

All Hallow Seven

 

 

666 Skull deep orange  halloween-skull-om1
cross skull DEEPER orange  halloween-skull-alph-omega1

October 31st is a night to celebrate – to celebrate Absolute Truth.
It is a night to grasp the sinister magnitude of the predicament fallen humanity is in.
It is also a night to recall one’s childhood with truly sepulchral melancholy and nostalgia.

I have noted, in my years of this earthly pilgrimage, the degeneration of Halloween from what it was in childhood. I recall less commercial pressure to consume. There was more child-friendly fantasy when I was growing up. The culture had not yet begun to harden into a crassly consumerist rigor mortis yet – or maybe I didn’t notice that part of it so much. Am I  just idealizing a vanished past? Possibly, yes… but the push to turn Halloween into a cannibalistic slasher-film is a real phenomenon and also a discernible symptom.

I am disgusted with the spectacle of Halloween in the USA. But I hold a grudging respect for what looks like a passing victory for death and the grave every year on the last gasp of October. Which brings me to Reformation Day:

In honor of St. Martin Luther, St. John Calvin and  St. John Knox, I proclaim the ongoing triumph of the Reformation. October 31, Reformation Day, is a national day of celebration in Germany, Slovenia, Chile, and Scandinavia – and it should be here as well.

The wages of sin is death (the bitter) but the gift of God is eternal life (the sweet).


The night is still, and the frost it bites my face
I wear my silence like a mask and murmur like a ghost

Trick or Treat – Trick or Treat: the bitter and the sweet

The carefree days are distant now / I wear my memories like a shroud
I try to speak but words collapse, echoing, echoing….

Trick or Treat – Trick or Treat: the bitter and the sweet

I wander though your sadness
Gazing at you with scorpion eyes: Halloween, Halloween…

A sweet reminder in the ice-blue nursery
Of a childish murder / of hidden luster – and she cries:

Trick or Treat – Trick or Treat: the bitter and the sweet

I wander through your sadness
Gazing at you with scorpion eyes: Halloween, Halloween…

Hallows Eve Pumpkin

 

School of Soft Knox

By way of closure to my recent Abyssinian musings, I offer my loyal connectees this doctrinally reformed limerick for their elect delectation.
(Of course, no Presbyterian has to ask what millenarian means…)

A sober and staid Presbyterian
was distrustful of thoughts millenarian.
After smoking some bud,
He awoke with a thud;
in his sleep he’d become Rastafarian.

L of J  rasta icon  presbyterian shirt

Psalm 68