TO ST. MARY MAGDALENE

Your attractive dark hair,

very long and wavy,

flowed aimlessly and

hopelessly over your

darkened eyes --

you were worn out

by the world’s dirty coins

and dirtier men.

But when you met

Him, the brightest light

of the purest love

streamed into your eyes,

driving the deadly demons

into a fearful frenzy and --

suddenly -- you found yourself

finally free.

Then, on the third day,

you giggled like a little girl

as you jubilantly ran

from the tomb

to the upper room

of your heart,

with a smile sparkling

and a soul soaring.

A CHRONICLE OF NARNIAN BASEBALL

With the sensual swirl and clustered

  curls of her wild, wicked whirl

Of hair, the wanton white witch

  stood on the mound ready to hurl;

The saucy wench went into a

  windup most sultry and seductive,

Her voluptuous goddess-like physique

  flamed as a volcano eruptive;

She fired a cutlass-like curveball,

  ready to slice into the lion’s soul,

And the ball sang through the air

  like a Siren, quite out of control.

There stood Aslan the Amazing,

  the spectacular baseball star,

He royally dug into the batter’s box,

  ready to hit the ball far;

Then, the Spirit spoke: “If you gaze

  at her fair face, you shall be undone;

Through Truth, unmask her sickly soul,

  and the battle shall be won!”

Clutching his bold, brave bat, he crouched

  like a catapult ready to spring,

Then, as he humbly surrendered to

  the Spirit, he took his first swing.

His bat flashed around like lightning

  and filled the crowd with wonder,

And as the ball hit his bat, there was

  the sound of crackling thunder;

Filled with chastity and purity,

  he crushed a laser-beam home run,

And gently trotting around the bases,

  he was as radiant as the sun;

When he was in the near occasion

  of sin, Aslan was on his guard,

And that’s why he’s now strolling

  down Championship Boulevard.

A CANTICLE OF CHEERFULNESS

A Tribute to Three Saints and a Venerable

My spirit rejoices in God, my savior;

He had the divine sense of humor; 

If I did not become upset, there would be joy in this;

I will serve God cheerfully,

Be cheerful, always cheerful,

One needs to have smiling faces around,

Live a happy life, full of joy!

Today you laugh and sing and carry your smile,

Optimism? Yes, always! Break into song with a Gloria,

Happiness is a consequence of self-surrender.

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.

THE WAKE-UP CALL

The angels seek the lazy,

   inviting them into the Light,

But the lazy 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 lazy ignore them,

   they sound the angelic alarms.

OLD FAITHFUL

I’m nothing more than

a hole in the ground,

and nobody notices me,

and I’m okay with that.

But when I receive the

Body of Christ, an invisible

spring of living water leaps

up out of my peaceful soul.

These crystal clear waters

of pure love surge upwards,

with unbounded freedom and joy,

praising the King of Heaven.

TO ST. BONAVENTURE

You were the genius blessed by God

Who spoke of the holy marriage of

Faith and reason, and, indeed,

What a fruitful couple they make.

You were the teacher blessed by God

Who showed that everything we do,

No matter how great or how small,

Should point us towards Heaven.

You were the diplomat blessed by God

Who brought Light to the Franciscan order, 

And as the sagacious Seraphic Doctor,

You were an instrument of God’s peace.

DISGUISES IN THE DARK NIGHT

Gentle St. Mother Teresa

Said that Jesus came to her

In the distressing disguise

Of the poorest of the poor,

And, of course, she was right;

However, is it possible that

Jesus also comes to us

in the distressing disguise

Of the inconvenient,

Of the unexpected, 

Of the cross?

PRAYER + SURRENDER = LOVE + MERCY

This equation is like a golden key,

That will certainly set our spirits free;

Prayer prepares the soul for God’s holy gifts,

While surrender cleanses and also sifts;

These open the door to true heartfelt love,

Which only comes from the good God above;

When love is tested in the deep dark night,

In the morn it shines as mercy so bright.

A HOMELESS MAN

I am weary,

my eyes bleary;

I drag around,

without a sound;

I have no home,

so off I roam;

I beg for food,

my shoes are glued;

on the mend,

I seek a friend.

EXECUTION AND EXILE

We all deserve execution,

To be nailed on a cross of wood,

We all deserve exile in hell,

For only God is purely good;

He chose to take our place in death,

Bloodily stabbed into the tree,

He paid the price to rescue us,

For only He can set us free.

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.

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.

A HOUSE BUILT ON SAND

A castle of carousing was built

On a lazy beach in

The City of Cool,

In the Province of Popular,

On the slippery sand of

Foolish fragile fear:

Then, a voracious tidal wave,

With a savage swarm of

Paranoid piranha,

Chewed apart the castle,

And a furious flood

Of thick red blood

Poured out in torrents,

Turning the green one red.

A HOUSE BUILT ON ROCK

A humble home was built

On a foundation of faith,

In the Town of Trust,

In the Province of Prudence,

On the rugged rock of

Divine Mercy:

The wild waves awoke

Like ferocious beasts

And beat against the

Formidable fortress,

Wailing with watery fists,

But all to no avail --

Nothing could harm

This holy house of Love.

THE TEMPEST

The wild tempest is unleashed

   and approaches us all at night,

Like a fierce, hungry cannibal,

   it swallows the moon in a bite;

Awake, awake my dearest souls:

   the near occasion of sin beware!

Away, away, while there’s still time,

   before you are caught in a snare!

TO ST. THOMAS THE APOSTLE

The Christ was cruelly crucified in

  that tumultuous Passover season,

So your life was shattered and shaken,

  and you surrendered to the god of Reason;

You started to sound like a practical pagan,

  and not like a Christian apostle,

For you to believe Jesus rose from the dead,

  it would take a miracle very colossal.

The other apostles saw Jesus alive,

  and that’s why their faces turned pale,

But to you this sounded like a stupid story,

  like a fantastical fairy tale;

With stony sarcasm you scoffed at them,

  and you told them you needed proof,

Without some truly indisputable facts,

  it seemed like an apostolic goof.

But a week later you were with them

  as He walked right through the wall,

Your dark eyes now twinkled in the Light,

  and tears of faith began to fall;

Then you looked closer at Jesus’ flesh,

  and it was ripped by a Roman lance,

So you crumbled to your knees in humility,

  and you melted in His merciful glance.

Your soul had dried up in the desert of reason,

  with troubling doubts all around,

But now in this flash flood of Living Water,

  they very, very quickly drowned;

You then became the apostle of India,

  as your journeys led to the East,

Helping many people find their way,

  to the Heavenly wedding feast.

THE DIVINE SENSE OF HUMOR

Inspired by Venerable Fulton J. Sheen

The divine

   sense of humor

      makes us laugh,

Without it,

   life is just

      lived to the half;

We are happy,

   and we smile

      with good cheer,

For the Lord’s

   perfect love

      casts out all fear.

TO ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI

Your jolly, joyful eyes dreamily dance

  to the sublime, saintly symphony

Of the unimaginably beautiful creations

  of the Most High Lord God;

Your pious, prayerful persistence

  and earnest embrace transform the

Leprous lechery of our lives into

  the radiant Son-shine of lasting love;

Your voice, like a melodious and

  musical church bell, resonates and

Reverberates throughout the ages

  with the clarity and purity of truth;

Your simple, kindly actions speak

  louder than the sonic boom of the

Ghastly gossip and eloquently

  empty chatter of the world.

TO ST. PETER THE APOSTLE

Your fishing boat bobs up

   and down in uncertainty,

As you reflect upon the

   meaning of your life;

With a sterile stare you

   gaze at the wobbly waves,

While the wonderful wind of

   the Spirit is silently approaching;

A merciful Son of Man is

   standing on the sandy seashore,

He is looking for his Rock,

   to make him a fisher of men;

The breeze blows through

   your stubborn dark hair,

As the Son of Man asks if He

   can come aboard your boat.

As Jesus ascends, He disappears

   into nebulous misty clouds,

You feel like a floundering

   fisherman without his nets;

Without the Good Shepherd,

   your heart seems hollow,

You now appear more like

   a pebble than a rock;

But later, a deafening wind

   whirls through the room,

And fantastical flaming

   fireballs crown all present;

In divers tongues, all mystically

   praise the good God,

And you proclaim the Word

   with holy courage.

As you are cruelly crucified

   upside-down on Vatican Hill,

Your life is brimming with

   meaning and significance;

Your blood falls to the earth

   like a myriad of mustard seeds,

Where the Church will

   take root and grow strong;

You are the first link in

   the precious papal chain,

An unbreakable chain dripping

   with martyrs’ blood;

This chain will withstand

   the hammering of heretics,

It will be like a fruitful vine

   bringing Love to the world.