hymn contemporary
the church’s one foundation
(still) is Jesus Christ, her lord
the church is she
like the damsel in distress
needing rescue
Christ is the hero
drawing her
from the drowning water
cutting her ties
by the villain
to the railroad tracks
like a melodrama
and why not
we’re talking about
villains and heroes
and mortgages
and the need for something better
as in more
than who we are
and we go on to sing
that Jesus will not fail
which is not bad
which is good
in a hero
coda
next hymn
or next version
the church will be a he
and will be rescued
by a she
by the female hero
who is Christ
like Zenobia
or Boudica
but better than the Romans
defeating the inimical
forever
and other genders
or what is genderless
in life
that has life
the organic
I suppose
the inorganic
too
there is a Lord
not only over all
but who is all
to make the rest
only a little separate
in the deified scheme of things
by identity
and purpose
and will
c l couch
("The Church's One Foundation" is a Christian hymn; this morning a contemporary fusion of the hymn was shared)
photo by Jefferson Santos on Unsplash
Because We Can Doesn’t Mean We May
And where is conscience
In all this
May we agree
This is a secular value
Maybe not
Maybe we’d say
It’s a confluence of chemicals
And so adjust the chemicals
According to agenda
And this is it
We’ll say
We can do anything
And so might as well
And so the anarchies of one
Guided by something
Because we are
Guided by something
We will release
All anathema
All destruction
Because
We could
So might as well
All this
Without a conscience
Without a human try
At salvation
Our part preceding
Armageddon
That we could line up for
Weapons down
Bringing drink with food
Instead
And also medicine
With the medicine of joy
As another
Secular choice
We could do this
We can do it
C L Couch
Photo by John Benitez on Unsplash
“Donate Blood Today” (which might translate more easily than part of an image on a page)
Not Our Town
I don’t think
You think of it
The problems that you cause
That what’s your fault
It isn’t mine
And mine
Does not belong to you
We go the way
Of the world
So to say
Noise for noise
Anger for anger
What’s the end
Some kind of disaster
Unclimaxed
Which would be real
Lack of material
Resolution
One of us withdraws
As in leaves
The other lets it
Without
Resolution
Because it seems
We can do no better
In the world
Not in Gaza
Which is hardly fair
For comparison
Not in
Nothing like
Mister Wilder’s
Or
Our town
C L Couch
Photo by Monica Bourgeau on Unsplash
Shape-Shifting
I should think
And say
Something spiritual
Something obviously
So
About the one
Who’s over
Under
Everywhere between
A Scarlet Pimpernel
Or Kilroy
Or Banksy
For our time
And who is next
Marauding
Typically in silence
As we know
With epithets
Graffiti
As campaigns
Of existentialism
I suppose
God won’t leave pictures
And words
Since God already leaves
These
In and as
A cosmos
And what is the message
But creation
And a reason for it
Drawn
And we say written in
The stars
Through written on the ground
As well
In the spiral of the nautilus
The hexagons
Of bee cells
The lines above horizons
With the meanings we may
Attach
Or leave go
For tonight
The messages
Are shared
And now receiving
Is the issue
I suppose
After appreciation
And acknowledgement
That something else
With
These shapes
Is going on
C L Couch
Photo by Rodion Kutsaiev on Unsplash
Homely
(classic meaning)
I don’t have a home
Do you
I have walls I pay for
That is all
I want a home
A place of peace
Though not all the time
A place
With variable moods
Allowed
Even with flaws expressed
And then corrected
And we know
Then
Something more
A place
With simple pleasures
Too
Who knows
Maybe the peace
Shall come from these
C L Couch
(a poem to go with the poem posted the other day about actual homelessness, “Less Home”)
Photo by Barb McMahon on Unsplash
How Much God-Complaining Is Allowed
And how does God love us
Well
Perfectly
To start
But it’s so frustrating
Where is the fruit
That rightly comes
Each year
We have waited
Through the brown
And white
And green seasons
Now it’s gold
But you don’t offer
Anything like guarantees
Of harvesting
For faith
You even excoriate
The wealthy
And leaders
Over living well
And
Yes
On taking
Keeping
Hoarding
From the rest
Tossing the peeling
While
Chewing through the fruit
Okay
Maybe you don’t do that
But what do you do
What is promise
And the bounty
From believing
We can’t even see you
Hear you
Touch you
Taste you
And what is left
Smell you
Like incense
That we use divine
In churches
Rising up
As if you were there
To take the tendrils
As requests
While we hope
And choke
(sometimes)
For needful
Responses
Well and good
And not so good
We have to wait
We cannot see
Or hear
And all the rest
And yet you are perfect
Perfect love
Where is that
Please
We need it
(sorry)
Obviously
We’re hungry
We’re thirsty
We’re too much on our own
And where are you
But here somehow and
Please
Show up with parcels
Please
Of all we need
All we need assuage
All we need consume
For life
Even if
We have poor understanding
What that means
Which
Of course
Is why we ask for you
Please show up
I need you
God
Please show
C L Couch
Photo by Lin Leyu on Unsplash
Poor (not as in bad but as in not having) Prayer, Real Prayer—2 poem-prayers
Poor Prayer
Dear God
I’m too pent up
And that’s not healthy
I’m also poor
And could not buy my way
Out of anything
Or even have
The coat I want
Care for my feet
Or shoes
Though you gave me
What you gave me
And keep giving me
Though I’m uncertain
What that is
Not doubtful
But uncertain
For somehow
I know things
A few things
Anyway
But not enough
For sureness
As I breathe
And as I think
And as I move
At last
Into the day
I do understand
You give
With or without expectation
Or do I simply manage
Through the hours
As I may
As I can
With what I have
And like the other poor
With what I must say
I don’t have
Real Prayer
Sigh
What I’m blessed
I do not know
There’s the morning sun
Yellow on green
And branches
Is that
Are these
Gifting for me
Because I’m the only one
Looking out these panes
At this time
Or is there more
Or less
And how are we blessed
Anyway
Not through things
Through gilded anything
(I pause
to drink
and honestly
am grateful for the drink
against the times
that poverty
or sickness
kept coffee from
me)
Or property
That is the Earth’s
Though we believe we’re claimants
Well
The wealthy
Or the mortgage-ridden do
Or could
(I’m not sure
how much possessiveness
they feel)
So what is ours
And what are we blessed with
From your hand
And your say-so
Might we own
Pieces
Of a whole
Or simply lent them
And then leave them
Which seems
The wider lesson
From the form
That living takes
And then
What do you want us
To do
In this next hour
And day
And the life
As a campaign
But to do
Justice
Says your book
And to walk humbly
By the way
And what is that
Are these
Except we know a code
Delivered from a mountain
While we waited
By dancing
Before idols
Though we could
Dance for justice
And humility
I suppose
And do you think
Would you approve
And
Allow for our confusion
Our mistakes
Even our flaws
Until we get them right
Which might
Take all our mortality
Of energy and time
Though
As a God
You will stay with us
I suppose
Even a judge
Should have to watch
And listen
Before judging
Well
I know there’s love in there
Forfending errors
Allowing for the pardoning
Of sins
And moving on
With you
Further abstractly
Farther even physically
On Earth
And in the universe
We observe
And only push our pins
Into
So love us as we move
And when we’re still
Even remembering
Our virtues
Or our lack thereof for pardon
Then to set us on our way
Or leave us to it
As we may
And bidden
You’ll be with us
Ornery
Obstinate
Aggrieved
Trying again
Amen
C L Couch
Photo by Nikola Knezevic on Unsplash
(the thing about an archway is that you go through it—CLC)
Less Home
The homeless
That could be me one day
That in my scared
Times
I do think of this
Hard to believe
The photographs of these
Are romantic
Depictions
Sometimes inside
Shelters
Sometimes with food
Also clothed
Sometimes with pets
Or studies in textures
Impressive
Even beautiful
But there’s the real
In the city
Or the town
In the square of some collection
Of us
Otherwise
Invested
And here she is
And he
And collectively they are given things
And also physically moved
When the homed
Are tired of them
Officially
Anxietous
Over values
Of properties
And landmarks
And how
Frankly
The homeless look
Against all style
And smell
Against all savory
Eating places
Sometimes they get boxes
As they find them
Mostly
Sometimes they want
To claim their own
Out of the nothingness
They own
Sometimes we try to find them
And I wonder if
Anyone would look for me
And what if I were found
And would I want
To be
So much lack of anything
Except for fullnesses
Of fear
Of shoes and socks
And clothes
Against the weather
And the weather
Fear of the next hour
Over what
To do
When not worrying
Over food and
Drink
And where to shower
And this could be me
Though for now
I can’t appreciate
Development
Or is it
Evolution
To this state
And any consideration
Of the length of time
To live this way
Until hopeless repetition
Becomes only
The hopeless
C L Couch
I wrote of home and then it seemed unfair not to consider homelessness; maybe the homely (classic meaning) part will be posted another time.
Photo by Barb McMahon on Unsplash
formless supplication and God what shall I say to you but help like the Beatles I suppose or anyone inside a boat with water pooled and seeming to rise help and bring some rags and a life preserver the dry-land versions this time and I don’t know what that means and I hope that that’s all right praying for formless things nonetheless to assist because I know you’re not a genie and this is not a trick with a lamp or the words for what I want to get them right or be fooled in what I’m getting or not and I like the raven or the spider in the story but you are not a trickster though you allowed tricks upon yourself with a kind of king for a day and then the awful truth falling on you by the end in a darkened noisy afternoon I’m sorry I’m simply asking for your help and in the grace of it not knowing what that help should be and does it count lack of specificity and I think it might c l couch photo by Martin Brechtl on Unsplash
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