What a confusing mess, waking
up alive in a basket of confusing,
stench-filled piss, not the physical
more like the lie told and believed
that alcohol is good to drink.
Another that it’s okay to have many
focuses and gods, play sports and
compete in pretend fights, slotting
passes and balls into a hoop.
Meantime the march for some to
Heaven continues, for those who
had that goal all along.
While we sought ways to deceive
another team or player, they sought
ways to love and give to the poor—
true gifts coming from our own
poverty, of course.
The slugger or forward on the team,
a confused pursuit of “victory,” leaving
the ultimate prize behind—
God. Heaven. A Peace of Mind!!!
Wake up in piss, but wake up!
When down the wrong road, turn
The goal… the basket… the only there
is is a contented sleep in the poem
spun by One, obstructed by
scoreboards and bars, the path
to hell wide and well-traveled.
Leave it and find the narrow a
better, albeit harder walk!
Die with me into this humble
song not on your TV;
die from the lies, and turn
toward the cross on your back;