In centuries past, courtships took more time,
Holding hands was special and a little kiss sublime,
The merging of two hearts: as one they would rhyme.
ButNowIt’sHookUpsWithStrangersAndLotsOfAbuse,
APrettierGirlWalksByAndThenIt’sTimeToVamoose,
JustMeaninglessSexTillThey’reDeadInANooseAnd
Your thick, wavy brown hair happily
Blows in the breeze of God’s will;
Your warm brown eyes twinkle with
Contentment, crinkling as you smile.
You protect the holy Babe from Herod’s
Hellish hands, which are dripping with blood;
In obedience, you help the Holy Family
Evade him and elusively escape to Egypt.
As a worker, you handle the wood of
God’s creation with gentle strength;
With industrious ingenuity, you use
God’s good gifts to serve others.
You shatter lustful temptation with your
Carpenter’s mallet of holy purity;
Then, as God’s valiant soldier, you slay
Selfishness with the sword of surrender.
In your loving example, you show little Jesus
how to be a good son to His mother;
With your humble heart, you teach Love
How to love, and the angels are amazed.
A veritable Doubting Thomas,
Santiago is perennially sad,
If it can’t be scientifically proven,
It just makes him very mad.
He loves Nietzsche’s philosophy,
And hates all religious belief,
For him life is a filthy rat race,
Where people die in bloody grief.
Santiago goes over to Fatima,
To mock the supposed seers,
Being intellectually superior,
He will shower them with jeers.
But seeing the miracle of the sun,
His heart of ice begins to thaw,
For the sun dances in the sky,
Breaking many a scientific law.
The finger of God shakes his world,
Leaving him totally stunned and dazed,
The finger of God shakes his world,
And he looks up truly, truly amazed.
In years past, students could focus more on learning,
Reading was something for which they were yearning,
Page after glorious page of the classics they were turning.
ButNowIt’sGradesGradesGradesNothingButGrades,
WithMoreReadingMoreWritingMoreResearchAndNoParades,
There’sMoreFrustrationMoreFearAndTheirEnergyFadesAnd
You’re a stout lad from the big Scottish isle,
A future bishop without any guile;
Kidnappers took you away from your home,
Across a sea that rippled with white foam;
In Ireland you were made a poor slave,
Life was rough, though you tried hard to be brave;
You drew close to God and He set you free,
At last with your eyes your homeland you see;
You return to Ireland so smart, so wise,
And clearly reveal all the devil’s lies;
You pray “Christ on my left, Christ on my right,”
And you help the Irish find the true Light.
Francis, the Poverello of Assisi, really cared for Mother Earth,
The clear starry skies and sparkling waters filled with mirth,
Happy, healthy buds burst forth brightly in glorious new birth.
NowWeWatchWithDeepDreadForOurWoundedWorldBleeds,
SheSilentlyReachesOutToUsAndEverSoDesperatelyPleads,
WhatCanWeDoInOrderToCureHerAndSupplyAllHerNeeds?
Before modern technology, time moved very slow,
Life was about life, not just earning some dough,
It was nice to stop and feel the whispering wind blow.
ButNowProgressPushesAndPushesToDizzyingHeights,
AndIt’sNothingButFastFoodAndThenWorkingLateNights,
GluttonousTechnologyEatsFatherTimeWithMegaBitesAnd
Back in the day, people would quietly chat by the fire,
Or maybe silently read and learn, like a monastic friar,
Of tranquility's beauteous bliss we would never tire.
ButNowThereIsNoiseNoiseNoiseBombardingOurEars,
HonkingHornsScreamingSirensAndSnaggletoothedJeers,
TalkingHeadsBoisterouslyBabbleAndTrebleOurFearsAnd
2,000 years ago life was lived at a slower pace,
There was time for family, and to see everyone’s face,
People took time to notice the beautiful stars way up in space.
NowLifeIsSoStressfulAndSoRushedAndSoObsessiveAndSoFast,
WeHaveToBuyBuyBuyAndBeSuccessfulAndAlwaysAvoidBeingLast,
SoWeNeedFlatScreensAndSmartPhonesAndNoTimeForThePastAnd
Song Titles on a Vinyl Record Album
Side One
1. “Happily Playing with Tiny Toy Boats”
2. “The Prodigal Young Man Sows His Wild Oats”
3. “He’s a Showoff and Loves to Brag”
4. “But Work is So Stressful and Life is a Drag”
Side Two
1. “Retirement Doesn’t Bring Any Hope”
2. “Health Suddenly Fails and He Cannot Cope”
3. “The Quicksand of Loneliness and Deep Sighs”
4. “What Can Give Life Meaning before He Dies?”
The angels seek the lazy,
inviting them into the Light,
But the slothful are sound asleep,
and their sad souls are dark as night;
The good angels show compassion,
and they stretch out their loving arms,
Yet since the sluggards ignore them,
they sound the angelic alarms.
I would always fight to win,
For me, it was a matter of pride,
So I stubbornly argued,
Twisting reason and then
Fracturing the truth,
Like a prisoner on the rack;
But now I’m slowly learning
To follow the way of the cross,
So when I’m confronted and
When I’m fiercely challenged,
In simplicity I speak the truth,
Then when my adversary
Insists and angrily persists,
I calmly turn the other cheek
And embrace the cross,
Experiencing the bitterness
Of ridicule and rejection,
The painful suffering of
Vindictive vehement insults
That bloodily slash and tear
At my heart and sensitive soul;
But the good God is so good,
Truly He is never outdone in
Generosity, for He pours the
Sweet balm of the Spirit
Into my wounds and rescues me
From the snares of the enemy,
I rest in His gentleness and patience,
I experience true joy in Him,
For His courage conquers all,
Driving away apparent obstacles,
And with a smile in my soul,
I approach the Sea of Mercy,
I approach it with great trust!
Your merciful aquamarine eyes
are magnificently modest,
Sparkling like radiant jewels
of kindness and compassion;
Your serene smile humbly
steals my hopeful heart,
As you point me towards the
path that leads to Jesus;
Your majestic mantle and sky-blue
sash dance joyfully in the breeze,
Reflecting the mildness and the
gentleness of the good God;
Your ladylike lips whisper
words of wisdom
That comfort and lighten
my heavy heart;
Your sweet, saintly actions
ripple through the universe,
Like warm, welcoming waves
of heavenly peace.
The smug Mrs. Malaprop confidentially
spoke to her newest apprentice:
“This recipe is only for those affluent
in the language of the culinary arts;
It is absolutely imperial to use berries
that have the same constancy as caviar,
This gives the pie a wealth of flavonoids,
such as radical-free anti-accidents;
The key is to use an inordinative amount
of sugar to make it exceedingly rich,
In fact, undubitably, the pie must be
baked with an upper-upper crust."
Willie the Worrier woke up in bed,
He was quickly filled with horrible dread;
His main goal in life was to get ahead,
Yet he stumbled and fell behind instead;
Never satisfied with his daily bread,
Now this stressaholic is door-nail dead.
Ricky rushes madly all the day long,
He’s petrified things will turn out all wrong;
His two nervous eyes seem made of green rock,
That shift like the pendulum of a clock;
Keep up with the Joneses, he must, he must,
Or all of his dreams will turn to grey dust;
His sad sour life is a merry-go-round,
And Fear chases him like a hungry hound;
Tragically, he lives at a breakneck pace,
With worrisome wrinkles on his blank face;
Ricky’s afraid he just might go crazy,
The truth is that his future’s quite hazy;
He needs to run, run, run, and buy, buy, buy,
But he never stops to ask himself why.
Ignoramus Maximus is his name,
And playing the stock market is his game;
With a dark ghoulish smile and fiendish eye,
Greed burns inside him and will never die;
He listens to the experts on TV,
Thinking these people the future can see;
As the stock market climbs to all new highs,
He trades hundreds of stocks of every size;
Thinking of nothing but buying and selling,
His addictive life is very telling;
To the god of riches does he succumb,
So that his sick brain becomes very numb;
But seeing his statement, he starts to choke,
He finally learns he’s totally broke.
"Pride goeth before a fall"
As the titanic tenor sings a tune,
Pride inflates him like a hot air balloon;
With an arrogant wrinkle of his brow,
He revels in a long slow snooty bow;
The crowd erupts in explosive applause,
And he smiles a plastic smile with his jaws;
But then something unexpected takes place,
A vine-ripened tomato hits his face;
The singer gives the guy a dirty glance,
But then abruptly trips and rips his pants.
Ignoramus Incredibilis is his name,
Or call him Litterbug -- it’s just the same;
He wipes his hands on his ketchup-stained shirt,
And drops his wrapper right into the dirt;
A stroll to the trash can is just too far,
So he tosses the bottle from his car;
But here is a fact pondered by the wise,
That Litterbug wears a sneaky disguise;
In truth, he’s very hard for us to see,
He actually looks just like you and me.
Whoever says he is in the light,
Yet hates his brother or sister,
Is still in the darkness --
But beware of The Twilight,
Neither fully in the light
Nor fully in the darkness,
The Land of the Lukewarm,
Like the Laodiceans of old,
Who are neither hot nor cold,
Who will be spit out like
Salt that has lost its flavor,
Like vines that have no fruit,
They will be thrown out
And they will wither,
Ever so slowly wither,
Into the black earth.