STALE COOKIES

We must avoid the

stale cookies of selfishness,

for they always crumble

into complaints;

but with the Eucharistic

bread of thanksgiving,

we can then live like

the holy saints.

FREEDOM

When liberty

is divorced from responsibility,

it dreadfully descends

in a dizzying death spiral of

selfishness.

But when liberty

is married to responsibility,

it courageously spirals upward

in a heroic flight of

freedom.

TO ST. FRANCIS DE SALES

Born in the breathtaking majesty of the Alps,

you became the Bishop of Geneva most brave;

You fought bloodless battles against the Calvinists,

and your gentle eloquence many souls did save.

Others preached with a barrel full of vinegar,

and for their listeners this wasn’t at all funny;

But you had the sense to sweeten your sermons

with the most delightful and delicious honey.

In your classic book you show us, the laity,

how to make our ordinary lives a success;

Teaching us to find God in the present moment,

our worried minds are relieved of great stress.

TO MY GUARDIAN ANGEL

Guardian Angel, please pray for us,

Because the devil tempts us to obsess,

We must evade the evil of worldly idols,

And not dream of what to possess;

Thirsting for things can thicken anxiety,

Which can seem to never cease,

We struggle and tuggle with all our might,

And banished is all our peace.

The diabolical dragon swoops down,

Determined all good to destroy,

With the flaming fire of enslaving greed,

He seeks to kill all devotion and joy;

But as our trustworthy guide from Heaven,

With love you sing a sweet prayer,

And your words rise like a happy dove

Higher and higher up into the air.

Your shining shield of protection

Guards us from the devil’s snare,

You deflect the dragon’s temptation,

And it evaporates into the air;

Gratitude is like a stream of living water,

Delightfully refreshing us during the day,

It brings joy to the heart and revives us,

While washing temptation away.

But when the evil one’s persuasive poison

Threatens to seep deep into our heart,

Teach us to think of the Lord Jesus crucified,

So that it pierces our soul like a dart;

When we dance with delight with temptation,

Help us the crucifix recall,

For the cross crushes the devil’s teeth,

And into hellish Styx he will fall.

Meditating on the gore of Golgotha,

Our hearts like tearful candles melt,

Knife-like nails puncture his palms,

And blood trickles to where Our Lady knelt;

Then our foolish obsessions are obliterated,

By the power of His holy love,

And we are magnificently made new,

By His grace flowing from above.

Trying to lure us into obsession,

The devil deceptively dangles his bait,

But seeing you push us out of harm’s way

Only fuels his mad fury and hate;

We escape the avalanche of avarice,

That crushes the soul like snow,

You lead us on a path filled with Light,

And our life in the Spirit does grow.

THE LORD OF THE ABORTION CLINIC

This is the tale of a small little boy,

Who was sadly deprived of all life’s joy;

I’m supposed to call him “fetal tissue,”

But for me it’s not a PC issue;

I easily slaughtered him like a pig,

No problem, for he was soft as a fig;

Tongs crushed his skull like an egg’s brittle shell,

The demons cheered for me in deep, dark hell;

If I had failed, I’d have lopped off his head,

A simple way to make sure that he’s dead;

You can call me a killer if you dare,

It’s no big deal, so I really don’t care;

Then, I stealthily sold his body parts,

I earn good dough from babies' lungs and hearts;

I’m sorry, but I really have to run,

Now I’m off to the beach to have some fun.

THE OCEAN OF DIVINE MERCY

I hesitantly open the door

of the confessional and

to my utter surprise

I see a beach before me:

as I approach the waters

of gentle aquamarine,

my hot feet, crusty

and blackened with

guilt, are cleansed by

Jesus’ holy hands;

He leads me into the ocean,

whose welcoming waves

of delightful divine mercy

kiss and caress my soul,

cooling and refreshing me,

and peace and joy

rush through me, and

as love ripples and rhymes,

sweetening my soul,

I am born again.

PRAYER FOR THE NEW YEAR

A DIVINE MERCY PRAYER

O Victorious Virgin,

In the dawn of this

Glorious new year,

Take my hand, gently,

And sweetly lead me

On the path to Truth;

Then joyfully unlock

The Gate of Heaven

Which opens wide

To the Prince of Peace,

To the King of Kindness,

To the Lord of Love;

As your Son rises

Deep in my heart,

May Divine Mercy rays

Of red and white

Shine through me

And warm the world!

THE CHAPEL OF DIVINE MERCY

My Via Dolorosa

has brought me here,

so I drag myself into

the dark chapel,

my body weakened

under the weight of

my crosses and woes,

and I am hopeless.

But here, kneeling,

my hands knotted together,

deep in prayer,

I surrender all to Him,

and, behold, a soft light

like that of a little candle

emanates from the

holy tabernacle.

Then as it gradually

intensifies and brightens,

the wick of my soul is lit,

and I relax in His presence,

my heart smiling as I am

completely enveloped in

the luminous Sonshine

of Divine Mercy.

DIVINE MERCY AT MORAINE LAKE

It is a bright beautiful morning in the

crisp clean air of the Canadian Rockies,

We ascend as I drive up a wonderfully

windy road past babbling brooks;

I am driving the “Tin Can” (the affectionate

name that we have given our car),

After reaching the sunny summit,

we gently roll into the Valley of the Ten Peaks;

We finally arrive at the large lake and

look up at the regal ring of mountains,

Yet I feel slightly saddened because

somehow it’s less than I expected;

A lodge that looks like a big log cabin

stands silently like a sentinel near the water,

We decide to dine there and enjoy a

delightful bit of roast beef for lunch;

The savory flavor of my sandwich lingers

in my mouth, as I think about my morning,

I try to cunningly convince myself that

I’m not disappointed, but I know that I am.

Departing for our next destination,

I wistfully walk towards our little car,

But as I look to the right, I see a

tar-black hill with a winding trail upon it;

The people look like pilgrims as they

make their way up the mysterious mound,

Curiosity gradually grows within me as I

ponder, puzzled, where the path leads;

So I investigate and struggle up the steep

trail, tripping occasionally on rock and rubble,

But when I get to the top, I am frozen

with fascination as I behold the view;

Above me is a diadem of snow-tipped peaks,

gleaming with the glory of God,

Below me is the pristine lake, and it is

shimmering and sparkling like a gemstone;

It appears as if millions of sapphires

and emeralds have melted into liquid,

And the blue-green color of the

lovely lake is luminous in the sunshine.

My senses are suddenly soaked in Your

Holy Spirit’s lasting love, and I feel Your beauty,

At this moment, nothing else matters,

and I only long to be close to You;

At this moment, I am oblivious to my past,

and I am oblivious to my future,

I am living in the eternal and

mystical present of the great I AM;

You are Holy Humility, You are

Magnificent Mercy, You are Limitless Love,

And with Your divine sense of humor,

You really are the God of surprises.

JUBILEE 2000: THE PIETÀ

Inspired by Michelangelo’s masterpiece

As I look up at the statue, I see Santa Maria,

  as white as virgin milk, holding her Jesus;

She is the elegant embodiment of humble

  Obedience and selfless compassion.

The Savior lay in the stately surrender of

  Sacrificial love, in His mother’s majestic arms;

He is crushed, the weight of the world’s

  Woes heavy upon His wounded body.

On the surrounding walls, the magnificent

  Marble is a multicolored whirlwind;

The Holy Spirit beautifully swirls and

  Soars through it in grace-ful agape.

JUBILEE 2000: BEFORE MASS

As I serenely sit in front of St. Peter’s

Basilica, I soak in the beauty of the piazza,

I look about my peaceful surroundings,

Drinking in the delicious glory of God;

Clusters of clouds casually waft by, so low

That they almost brush the top of the dome,

They pass by like eager pilgrims, Eucharistic

White against the bright blue sky.

Fresh flowers flow down on the white steps in front

Of the altar, like a colorful cascading waterfall,

I inhale the perfume of their sweet scent,

And I breathe in the Lord’s love;

The elegant church bells powerfully and

Rhythmically ring out God’s grandeur,

While the balmy breeze swirls around me

And compassionately caresses me.

JUBILEE 2000: ST. PETER'S BASILICA

Reflecting on God’s grandeur, I marvel

At the beauty that surrounds me,

The statue of the Pietà vibrantly reflects

The sweet sublimity of God’s mercy;

The nave floats in the swirling, variegated,

Multi-colored waves of a marble ocean,

And massive pillars of magnificent marble

Stand at attention like the Swiss Guards.

As the doors silently open, the Holy Father’s

Vehicle slowly rolls down the aisle,

And in rushes a breeze of heavenly hope

That placidly fills the sails of our souls;

I stand on my chair and see the saint whose

Faith defeated the dreary dark night,

As he kisses a babe, love ripples through

The crowd and rhymes in our hearts.

SCRUFFY ON TOP OF EUROPE

I’m just a little bichon frise on top of the

Jungfrau, and I feel like I’m super special;

I’m now the highest dog in all of Europe,

And my heart is strutting, filled with pride.

But I really can’t take any credit for it at all,

Because my Master carried me up all the way;

I’m like a fluffy little lamb, and the only reason

I’m special is because He makes me feel special.

The view is beautiful, and way down in the

Valley below, lovely cowbells ring their melody;

I feel like I’m in Heaven, and my heart serenely

And sweetly sings, because I know that I am loved.

FIRST TRIP

Dedicated to my father

Me and Dad were at

Knott’s Berry Farm and

he couldn’t wait to share

his favorite attractions with me;

the torch of his enthusiasm

burned even hotter

than the fiery ashes

of his cigarettes;

but I was like a wet match,

soaking wet,

and Dad had no chance,

no chance at all --

my whole world was

Disneyland;

hot words of anger

gathered in his mouth

like fierce storm winds,

but then he hesitated,

thought pensively for a moment,

and, finally, swallowed them;

with a smile of selfless surrender,

he took my hand in his own

and, together, we walked

towards the parking lot.

TO ST. NICHOLAS

You are the merry Christmas saint,

You tried to live without complaint;

A bishop with a cheerful heart,

Your words pierced like a loving dart;

Your gift of gold saved three sweet maids,

Who always feared the Roman raids;

With holiness you beat the foe,

Your jolly laugh goes ho, ho, ho.

OUR LADY, UNTIER OF KNOTS

Their perplexed brows are

knitted into knots

as they impatiently try to

conquer the unconquerable,

and so they slowly slide down,

down the slippery slope

of depression and despair

into the murky darkness

of melancholic misery;

but Our Lady touches their hearts,

and most lovingly leads them

along a path trustworthy and true,

through the White Way of Light,

and up the majestic mountain;

then as they drink the delicious

new wine of Divine Mercy,

their wrinkles of worry dissolve,

their souls serenely smile,

their hearts are made whole,

and, to their utter amazement,

they are absolutely and totally

born again.

A PROFILE OF COURAGE

Eugenio Pacelli is consecrated a bishop,

In Italy’s historic city of Rome,

But he is flung like a javelin into Germany,

And Munich is now his home;

Egelhofer sends Commander Seiler

On a mission filled with human hate,

The truth is Mr. E. thirsts for blood,

And Pacelli he wishes to assassinate;

Commander Seiler and this gang selfishly strut

To the bishop’s place of residence,

They’re planning a brash bold attack,

Plotting his murder with confidence;

They threaten the servant with weapons,

So he reluctantly lets them in,

Now they await the bishop’s return,

Thinking victory they will win.

Seiler stands ready at the door,

With his thugs in a semicircle around,

Armed with loaded guns and grenades,

Their faces are rather frowned;

When the bishop opens the door,

Seiler points a pistol at his pectoral cross,

Yet Pacelli fearlessly stands his ground,

And shows him who is boss;

The holy bishop speaks as soft as an abbot,

Or even a most prayerful friar,

But his courageous words rip into them,

Like relentless machine gun fire;

The bishop’s eyes are two spear tips,

That pierce right through their souls,

And in a daze they gape back at him,

As motionless as telephone poles.

With empty hands the would-be assassins

Return to Egelhofer the Extreme,

To his surprise, Pacelli still lives,

And in the Munich diocese reigns supreme;

The bishop bravely swatted their plans,

As if they were harmless flies,

Never before had they looked at a priest

With such powerful paralyzing eyes;

During the Second World War,

He saved countless lives from Nazi extermination,

And many Jewish people commended him,

For his covert operation;

This lean, stately figure ran the Church,

Though he never sought out fame,

He is better known as Pope Pius,

The Twelfth who has held that name.

TO ST. JUDE THADDEUS THE APOSTLE

You had fabulous fun playing with Jesus,

Your second cousin who knew no guile,

You loved to visit His mild mother,

Who always had the sweetest smile;

Through the patient passing of the years,

You saw the magical messiah mature,

And He chose you and your brother James,

To be apostles who strive to be pure;

In loving loyalty your mother agonized,

With Jesus’ mother at the foot of the cross,

Your father Cleophas was monstrously martyred,

And his death was a dire loss;

But you steadfastly served the Lord,

And were famous for physical healing,

You happily sought out holiness,

And spent much time prayerfully kneeling;

In a foreign land you were beaten to a pulp,

Until you were door-nail dead,

But it wasn’t satisfying enough,

So your murderers lopped off your head;

Now you wear a martyr’s golden crown,

And live in Heaven’s perennial jubilation,

Interceding for the Church Militant,

You help it become a new creation.

TO ST. SIMON THE APOSTLE

You were a zealot against the Romans,

Whom you terribly wanted to crush,

Perhaps you dreamt of spearing their skulls,

And watching their bright blood gush;

But Jesus of Nazareth was meek and mild,

And he turned the other cheek,

When He healed the Roman’s servant,

Did you think the Messiah was weak?

But Jesus spoke to rich and poor

With an amazing proclamatory power,

And before no man -- Jew or Roman --

Did He ever stoop or cower;

His multitudinous miracles filled your

Heart with amazement and with awe,

Almost imperceptibly you came to realize

That He was the fulfillment of the law.

Some say that you were cruelly crucified,

Just like Our Most Blessed Lord,

Others say you were sawed in two,

With your body savagely and brutally gored;

Either way, the acid anger of hate corroded

The malicious murderers’ brains,

While in your holy heart God’s Spirit

Everlastingly and eternally reigns.

TO ST. FAUSTINA

You, the mystical

missionary of mercy,

are honored as

the first saint

of the Great Jubilee,

the first saint

of the new millennium;

you serenely smile

as the blessed blood

and the blessed water

kiss and mingle

in the infinite ocean

of Divine Mercy;

you see the barque

of St. Peter as it

faithfully floats on

the beautiful waves,

protected from the

storm winds of worry,

free from all fear;

like the warm welcoming

arms of the Bernini Colonnade,

Divine Mercy is ready to

earnestly embrace every

hardened sinner who

hungers for healing and

thirsts for generous love:

Jezu ufam Tobie!