THE LADY OF STELLAMARE

Act III

The next day Cassano got up very early,

  And heartily shook the prophet’s hand,

Then he set out towards the frontier,

  Ready for new adventures in that land;

The trail led him near the summit of the mountain

  Between the two highest peaks,

He noticed the weather quickly changed,

  And wind like icy daggers pierced his cheeks.

Billowy black storm clouds filled the eastern sky

  And swirled in a threatening cyclonic motion,

As if they had been quickly conjured up,

  By a wicked and malicious potion;

Daytime in this cursed and dreary land

  Was as dark as very early dawn,

There was strangled sunlight all around,

  And every vestige of hope seemed gone.

Underneath the dull, dismal sky,

  The Sea of Shadows was a gloomy green,

And under the squinty eye of the storm,

  Inferno Island could be seen;

A ring of fire blazed extremely bright,

  And it surrounded the mysterious isle,

A volcanic mountain was in its center,

  And its diameter was about a mile.

Its crater was filled with molten lava,

  And was a red eye glaring over the sea,

The Dark One’s presence was strong there,

  And no prisoner could ever be free;

Cassano saw all these various things

  From the Magic Mountains way up high,

Petrio’s words were quite prophetic,

  He spoke the truth and not a lie.

Cassano looked at the base of the mountain,

  And saw a very small town,

The wild waves attacked with open jaws,

  As if they were trying to gulp it down;

It was located on a bleak little peninsula,

  Over the south end of the bay,

No light shined on treacherous Mai Tornar

  On this very stormy winter day.

The wind was very strong and gusty,

  As Cassano descended to Mai Tornar,

The weatherbeaten buildings were weary,

  And they were all the color of tar;

This dirty town had quite a vile stench,

  Of burnt meat and the cheapest ale,

And then he saw dingy drunkards brawling,

  Behind the bars of the jail.

When he walked along the bluff near town,

  He looked for a ship to take him away,

But poor Cassano saw no sign of a vessel,

  And nothing at all stirred in the bay;

As he walked on the uneven cobblestones,

  He found an inn along the road,

But as he came through the front door,

  A man grimaced like a menacing toad.

This short, stout man was named Gonzalo,

  And he glowered with hellish hate,

When Cassano had been a captain at sea,

  Gonzalo was assigned his first mate;

It turned out Gonzalo was a petty thief,

  And between them a dispute had arisen,

But in the end Cassano got what he wanted,

  And Gonzalo got thrown into prison.

So Gonzalo quickly hid in another room,

  And spied on him through the shutters,

He saw Cassano speak to a timid sailor

  Who continually stammers and stutters;

The little chap told him that sailing is hard

  Because of the inclement weather,

The last ship got tossed around by the waves,

  As if it were just the smallest feather.

The fine ship was called the Intrepid,

  And its wreckage was on the shore,

He said that the damages were heavy,

  And repairing it would be a chore;

So Cassano quietly sat down at a table,

  And he pensively ate some grub,

He was beginning to wonder if Petrio

  Might have committed a bit of a flub.

Many weeks passed and no sign of a ship,

  As persistent Cassano patiently waited,

Meanwhile Gonzalo continued to plot,

  For revenge on the man he so hated;

The town’s citizens were terribly lazy,

  And few of them had steady work,

They were thieves with sneaky eyes,

  Who in foggy lanes did loiter and lurk.

But one morning Cassano eagerly awoke,

  For an insight flashed into his mind,

The Intrepid was the first ship he saw,

  So that was the one he had to find!

He formed a plan to repair the ship,

  But he knew he couldn’t do it alone,

So Cassano created a financial incentive,

  And he sold his precious stone.

To the many people who wanted work,

  He gave them a respectable job,

Since Cassano gave them dignity as workers,

  They no longer needed to rob;

In wages he gave every single coin away,

  As he strove to treat workers fair,

In gratitude the citizens made a choice,

  And they decided to elect him mayor.

Although the project took three long years,

  The Intrepid was as good as new,

As the captain of this resurrected ship,

  He chose a brave and trusted crew;

The weather was sunny in this perilous land

  Perhaps only ten days each year,

So quickly the crew packed their supplies,

  When the sky abruptly became clear.

Captain Cassano saw his opportunity,

  So they cast off while the weather was good,

He wanted to travel a long way fast,

  And the crew nodded and understood;

The captain decided to set a firm course,

  Thus he chose the ship’s last destination,

Their voyage was to the Floating Icefields,

  So each one manned his station.

But unbeknownst to Captain Cassano,

  Gonzalo had sneaked aboard,

Nothing would make Gonzalo happier

  Than to see him bloodied and gored;

Now the first three days were uneventful,

  Which made the crew quite glad,

But after they saw a solar eclipse,

  The whole world seemed to go mad.

Suddenly there was an eerie wild wind,

  And the waters frightfully churned,

Bulging black clouds blitzed the sky,

  As the weather had radically turned;

The Sea of Shadows was darker than ever,

  But then there was another worry,

The Floating Icefields were in the vicinity,

  So the crew scrambled in a hurry.

Lightning struck like daggers in the darkness,

  Wounding the innocent air,

Thunder furiously raged and roared,

  As the storm gave the crew a scare;

Though no rain yet fell from the clouds,

  The wicked waves reached toward the sky,

The Intrepid bobbed around in the cauldron,

  And everyone thought they’d die.

Gonzalo was waiting in the shadows,

  Like a poisonous human weed,

He nervously stroked his stubbly beard,

  As he planned the dirty deed;

Gonzalo suddenly leaped onto the deck,

  And grabbed his bloody blade,

He rashly raised his knife high in the air,

  As the revenge card was about to be played.

Cassano was very busy steering the ship,

  When Gonzalo stabbed with his dagger,

But lightning struck the mizzenmast,

  And the explosion made them both stagger;

The sharp blade cut Cassano’s left arm,

  So his sleeve became rather bloody,

Then they violently brawled on the deck,

  Until their faces turned quite ruddy.

Cassano punched Gonzalo in the mouth,

  Bloodying his beard and lip,

Then Gonzalo tripped, and fell over sideways,

  And he toppled right off the ship;

The hungry flames caused by the lightning

  Quickly ate the ship’s old wood,

The crew tried dousing the flashing flames,

  Or they’d all be gone for good.

The crew forgot about the ship’s helm,

  For they were busy fighting the fire,

Then the Intrepid rammed into a glacier,

  And the situation became more dire;

The vessel had a huge gash in the bow,

  And swallowed a great deal of water,

The dying Intrepid shivered and shuddered,

  Right before it started to totter.

Like a corpse, the Intrepid keeled over,

  Like a harpooned whale in the sea,

The crew fell out like lumps of sugar,

  And were stirred into the murky green tea;

Cassano latched onto the captain's skiff,

  And he rowed with all his might,

His goal was to get away from the ship,

  For he refused to give up the fight.

THE LADY OF STELLAMARE

Act II

Greetings, Florian --

As you well know,

I departed in haste

following Chiara's

tragic and unexpected

death,

so now I would like to

update you on all

that has happened

since I left.

After a long journey,

just after sunset,

I found the old prophet,

Petrio,

in a cave,

in the Magic Mountains.

With a gruff yet gentle voice,

the old man abruptly said,

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

I hardly knew what to say

because I was so taken aback;

there is no way that

he could have known I was coming.

So I engaged him in conversation,

and I very much welcomed

having someone to talk to

after so many weeks alone.

We spent all night

and most of the next day

talking together,

and I learned that

he was very close to Chiara

when she was a child.

I felt so comforted

by his words

that I was almost ready

to return home

to resume my life

without Chiara

when he suddenly said,

“It is your destiny

to follow her.”

Then he calmly added,

“You will see her again, alive,

if you listen to my words.”

When I first met Petrio

I honestly thought he was just a

crazy old man,

but the longer I was with him,

the more his words got

inside of me,

and I knew that he spoke

the truth.

A fire was burning in my heart,

as it still is now,

as I write to you

from an inn,

here in a little coastal

port town called

Mai Tornar.

So getting back to my story,

Petrio picked up

a little candle

that was within arm’s length,

and he gave it to me.

He also gave me

a scroll

that was rolled up,

and it looked like

it was made out of vellum.

Lastly, he gave me a

stunning, sparkling diamond

that was the size of my fist.

He said I needed to

follow his instructions

precisely.

Then he gave me a stern

yet kind warning, saying,

“When you cross

to the eastern side

of the Magic Mountains,

you will be severely tested.”

He told me to go to

Mai Tornar

and take passage on

the first ship I came upon.

Petrio said the tempests

on the Sea of Shadows

are notoriously perilous,

but I should light this candle

only if and when I encounter

the embodiment of evil.

As for the scroll

and the diamond,

he said I would learn

in good time how

to use them both.

Then he added,

“The Dark One

isn’t interested in

the diamond,

but he will try to steal

the candle and the scroll.

Resist him!”

Then he paused,

and looked with intensity

into my eyes and continued,

slowly but with great emphasis,

“You will meet a lady,

the Lady of Stellamare.

This scroll belongs to the King,

so make sure that she gets it,

because she will be

his messenger."

I have never before met

someone so resolute,

and pleasantly stubborn,

in fact, almost bordering on

friendly defiance.

But it was clear to me

that this old sage was indeed wise,

and there was something

utterly trustworthy

in his eyes.

I was both physically

and emotionally

exhausted,

and I slept for what

felt like days.

But I awoke refreshed,

and invigorated.

Petrio then gave me

his last words of warning

before I left.

With eyes alert like

a great warrior’s,

he told me to avoid

Inferno Island.

He said,

“If in spite of all

your efforts,

you find yourself

on this enchanted isle,

do not touch its fruit!

If you even so much as taste it,

you will certainly die.”

Petrio concluded by saying

that as soon as I would get

on the other side

of these mountains,

I would be crossing the frontier

into the territory of

the Dark One.

His last words to me were,

“Never underestimate his powers!”

To be continued tomorrow…

THE LADY OF STELLAMARE

Act I

When Cassano heard his wife was sick,

  He expected to find her in bed,

But by the time he arrived at their country house,

  She was already tragically dead;

His heart was completely broken,

  For she was a compassionate and loving wife,

So then he journeyed to a distant land,

  Because something was missing in his life.

Cassano’s wife had spoken of a wise old man

  Who lived in the Magic Mountains,

He lived for years in a craggy cave

  Above the enchanted Lake of the Fountains;

It is said this sage knew of a hidden city

  That was paved with precious pearls,

And rumors say that he knew of an isle

  Filled with beautiful fairy-like girls.

Hence he decided to set out alone,

  To try and find this most mysterious man,

So the sun soaked Cassano for several weeks,

  Until his skin became very tan;

When he saw the Magic Mountains,

  They were like stalagmites touching the sky,

The stunning spires were of gold and silver,

  And they towered so very high.

The Lake of the Fountains was nearly circular,

  And its sky-blue waters inspired peace,

Around the lake were lovely fountains,

  Whose watery spires would not cease;

Each of the twelve fountains gushed water,

  As much as three hundred feet high,

They were like volcanic eruptions of crystal,

  Glimmering as they touched the sky.

When he had finally reached the lake,

  It was very scenic to behold,

As the sun rose over the mountains,

  The frolicking fountains glistened with gold;

He rested that day near this delightful lake,

  For he was really beginning to tire,

But at night he looked up towards the summit,

  And he was sure that he saw a fire.

The next day he got up very early,

  And climbed the steep and rugged trail,

He was determined that his daring journey

 Would not ever be doomed to fail;

After three long days, he found the cave,

  In a clearing through the trees,

And he found himself wonderfully cooled

  By a mystical and refreshing breeze.

The giant sun slowly sank down,

  And it glowed a fiery red,

Then the darkness of night fell abruptly,

  Like a heavy curtain made out of lead;

Cassano peered around the corner of the cave,

  And saw a man with a very big frown,

The old man had a hood on his head,

  And his coarse cloak was all in brown.

This man had a long, ruffled gray beard

  That was visible in the torch’s light,

Being relatively short of stature,

  He was certainly not known for his height;

The old gentleman, named Petrio,

  Was perusing an ancient scroll intently,

Then, completely lost in his thoughts,

  He put it down quite gently.

To be continued tomorrow…

THE MAGIC RIVER

Act I

When Nerina was six

Years old and her sister

Clarissa was five,

Petrio, the sage old prophet,

Paid an unexpected visit

To their happy family;

As they were all sitting

Around a fire on the hearth,

He told the young girls

What would happen when

They came of age --

If they chose well;

He said they were both

Destined to marry well,

To handsome princes,

And he explained the

Beautiful life that awaited them

When they finally came of age

At the ripe age of sixteen;

Clarissa clung tightly to

Every single word

That Petrio uttered,

While Nerina was lost

In daydreaming and

Didn’t pay much attention;

When Petrio was almost finished,

He firmly cautioned each of them

Not to get distracted because

The river can be very deceptive;

He advised them to keep

Their attention and remain

Completely focused on

Safely reaching the prince

That awaited each of them;

But the impatient Nerina

Didn’t hear a word he said.

Act II

There, in the distance,

Atop that mystical mountain,

Is a grandiose garden

That is ringed by a crown of

The most radiant roses;

From it gushes forth

A crystalline river

That sparkles in the sun

Like dazzling diamonds;

One day a red-haired

Beauty who had

glistening green eyes

Had come of age, so

She entered a little

Black boat and

Began to row;

It was Nerina

And she looked forward

To finally meeting

Her magic prince

At the garden’s

Golden gate, and,

Indeed, far far above

Her, far beyond

Her view,  a fair-haired

Youth was standing

Amidst the glorious roses;

Nerina continued rowing

Uphill towards the garden,

But the water was so smooth

And so wonderfully silky

That she closed her eyes

And gradually fell asleep;

When she awakened,

Her boat had drifted

Far far downstream

From where she had started;

She noticed that the water

Had changed color and

Was now a pretty pink,

And she saw that

In the distance it

Was a fantastical fuchsia;

Nerina was captivated

By its vibrant color --

then fragrant fruit trees

Caught her attention,

And for quite some time

She became mesmerized by

The lush forest of fine fruit trees

That came right to the banks

Of the magical river;

The trees were loaded with fresh,

Sweet-scented tropical flowers

That bloomed forth like a

Veritable rainbow of color;

She closed her green eyes,

Smiled, and soaked in

These romantic delights with

A heart filled with wonder.

Act III

But she didn’t notice that

The river became steeper,

And the water was now

Traveling at a greater velocity;

Suddenly, Nerina’s boat was jerked by

A powerful current that quickly

Snapped her out of her reverie;

Nerina now found herself

Tumbling through blood-red rapids

That were alarmingly getting

Warmer and warmer;

A few minutes later, the water

Was starting to boil and

The boat started to burn;

As she looked for an escape

To the shore, she saw to her dismay

That everything had

Dramatically changed;

Tall twisted trees, blackened

And charred by the intensifying

Heat, hung their weakened

Arms over the fiery-red

River, as if imploring Nerina

To paddle back upstream;

But it was too late,

And soon her face became

Frightfully disfigured,

Melting like molten wax

In the lava-like flood;

The wicked waters raged into

The rapidly-darkening gloom,

While storm clouds savagely

Circled the mountain and

Lightning, falling like jagged

Spears, lit up the malevolent sky;

Then Nerina, with her bloodshot

Green eyes ready to explosively

Burst like globular bubbles,

Screamed in terror as she

Plunged over the edge of the

Cliff and tumbled into the

Open jaws of the abyss,

But her chilling shriek was

Silenced as her torso was

Skewered by one of the

Dagger-like rocks that

Jutted out from the

Fiery lake in the

Black void of death.

Act IV

It was precisely one year

After the mysterious

Disappearance of Nerina,

And so, now it was

Clarissa’s turn to enter

The river since she had

Come of age and was

Sixteen years old;

Although she had no

Idea of what had become

Of her sister Nerina,

She remembered clearly

The words of Petrio;

So she entered a white boat

On the river with a degree of

Fear and trepidation,

Wondering what would

Happen to her next;

She immediately noticed

That she was beginning

To drift slowly downstream,

To she took up the paddle

And began to row,

Steering the little boat

In the opposite direction;

She did so patiently,

With her beautiful arms

Pulling long, slow, elegant

Strokes through the water;

Clarissa rowed for hour

After laborious hour,

And although she was tired,

For some inexplicable reason

She actually felt that

She was getting stronger;

Clarissa was so focused

On Petrio’s prophecy

That she didn’t notice

That the terrain had

Totally transformed;

The shining sun was soaked up

By the sugar-white sand dunes

That now surrounded the river;

A whirling wind whipped

Over the surface of the water,

Scourging it and purifying it;

Even the water had changed

Into a cloudy pearl color,

And it seemed to breathe in

The sunlight and absorb it;

Clarissa noticed none of

These things but continued

Pressing on towards her goal

Like a champion athlete;

When the sun set and night fell,

She finally paused to rest;

Reclining in the boat, she

Looked up into the starry sky;

Clusters of stars brightened and

conquered the black of night,

Then, one by one,

Several moons of various

Colors and sizes rose

Above the horizon --

But the most beautiful

Of them was surrounded by

An exquisitely gold ring

That swiftly and magnificently

Spun around a silver moon;

Clarissa allowed all of this

To soak deeply into

The depths of her soul;

The next morning,

She awakened from

Her restful slumber

With renewed strength,

So she rowed vigorously,

And pursued her goal

With a single-minded

Drive and determination;

After a short while her

Surroundings were

Transforming yet again --

But this time she observed it all.

Act V

The desert sand was

Gradually tapering off,

And it was replaced by

Rich, verdant lawns;

Then she saw the summit

Of the mountain and

Noticed that it was crowned

By a resplendent garden;

This garden was ringed

By a crown of rose bushes,

And flowing from the center

Of the garden was a stunning

Waterfall that was translucent,

And its color was aquamarine pearl;

Behind the waterfall there was a

Wall of gold that was trimmed

With silver, and gemstones

Were set here and there,

sparkling brilliantly through

The crystalline waters of the

breathtaking waterfall;

So Clarissa paddled gently

Until she reached a small

Pier at the base, and there

She stepped out of her boat;

When she did so, she suddenly

Became aware that she now

Wore a gown that was

Dazzlingly white, and

it was embroidered with

the very same gems that

she saw behind the waterfall;

Clarissa began to ascend a

Spiral staircase of gold that

Was also trimmed with silver,

but the handrails were adorned

With fine little diamonds that

Sparkled happily in the sun;

Then she heard a strong, soothing

Voice and eagerly looked up,

With a sweet smile on her face

And her eyes twinkling

With hopeful delight;

There, standing next to

The cascade of water was a

Handsome, fair-haired young man

who was also dressed in white,

And he wore a stately

Crown upon his head;

Clarissa slowly walked

Up the staircase to the

Glorious garden above,

And it all seemed like

A lovely dream to her;

When she stood before

The prince, face to face,

He knelt down and

Slipped the finest of rings

On her innocent finger;

Then it was her turn to

Kneel before him, and

He gently placed a stunning

Diadem upon her head;

With that, the wind danced

Between the two of them,

Rushing through the garden

With great jubilation;

It was worth the wait for Clarissa --

Her happiness knew no bounds

As she prepared to fulfill her

Destiny in a grand new life.

THE ANCHOR

The captain loved the anchor

Of his elegant cruise ship,

He utterly adored that anchor,

It was solid silver and gold and

Was decorated with diamonds,

It sparkled in the moonlight,

But then a sudden storm swept

Over the sleepy sea and

So the anchor was lowered --

He clung to her metallic body,

Blinded by his foolish attachment,

Then as the anchor splashed

Into the thirsty black water,

The sharks’ blade-like teeth cut 

His flesh like a million daggers,

Mangling his wretched body,

And his soul sank deep into

The bottomless abyss of

The Dark Sea of Doom.

THE PARADISO: A DIVINE ROMANCE

Based on Dante’s Paradiso

As we look up into the warm face

Of the glorious, majestic Sun,

We are free from the weight of sin,

And so we gently soar upwards

At the sizzling speed of Light,

Into the marvelous Marian blue sky.

As we approach the Heavenly Realm,

We peacefully pass through the leaping

Flames of the bright Ring of Fire

Which orbits our little blue planet;

Then our ears are serenaded by

The lovely Music of the Spheres,

Each sphere slicing into space like

The melodious bow of a violin.

We begin by visiting the First Sphere,

An ever-changing inconstant orb,

And there we find those happy souls

Who, though unintentionally, broke

Their vows, and so, are in the lowest

Tier of Heaven, glad but not nearly

As happy as many other souls,

And yet they are content and they

Feel no envy whatsoever towards

Those more greatly blessed.

On the Second Sphere we see the

Virtuous seekers of holy honor;

Their happiness is clearly greater

Than the souls of the previous sphere

As they sing the praises of God

And dance with quiet contentment

In a place where fear does not exist.

On the Third Sphere are the amorous,

Who sinned with hearts full of lust,

But, by God’s holy grace, they learned

To love the most holy Son of Love;

Thus, these fortunate souls dance with

Overflowing joy, for they are saved!

On the Fourth Sphere are twelve 

Saintly doctors of the Holy Church,

They form a bright human garland 

In the air that is even more dazzling

Than the stars that shine behind;

Their hymn of praise resounds

Through all of the Heavenly Realm,

And their generous love is all in all.

On the Fifth Sphere are the valiant

Warriors of God who are arrayed in 

The formation of a large cross and

Their radiance is of a still greater

Intensity as they taste peace and joy

Unlike anything ever known on Earth,

They are like shooting stars darting

Across the sky in their holy ecstasy. 

On the Sixth Sphere, the souls are even

More beautiful, even more dazzling;

Here are the courageous, where the

Just and temperate rulers dwell in 

God’s peace, and above we can see the

Heavenly luminaries arranged to form

An eagle, surrounded by glowing lilies,

High up in the sparkling clear sky.

On the Seventh Sphere the holy 

Contemplatives live in a perpetual

State of sweet harmony, happiness

Following upon happiness, as they

Reflect with deep satisfaction on the

Inexhaustible Mysteries of Love;

As they do so, they are surrounded by

Heavenly crystalline where there is a 

Golden Ladder upon which saints soar

To the lofty summit of God’s glory.

As we ascend still higher, we arrive at

Our next destination, the Eighth Sphere,

Where the intense and ineffable ecstasy of 

Love deliciously fills all of these good souls

So completely and so eternally, and their

Beaming smiles and their incomprehensible

Contentment are like breathtaking stars

That shine perpetually in the Heavenly Realm;

They look back through the universe

And see the Earth, miniscule and 

Insignificant, and yet greatly loved

By the Lord, the King of the Universe;

Then through the theological virtues of

Faith, Hope, and Love, we are ready to 

Pierce deeper into the Heart of Love.

We arrive at the Primum Mobile and

Through the magnificent Mystic Rose

We can finally see the Empyrean itself,

Where God, who is Light from Light,

Is surrounded by choirs of angels:

Seraphim and cherubim, thrones and

Dominations, virtues and powers, 

Principalities and archangels -- all in

Ceaseless praise and holy jubilation.

This is where all words fall short,

For nothing can ever describe just

How good is the source of goodness,

How beautiful is the source of beauty,

How true is the source of all truth -- 

How can we even begin to describe

Spiritual union with the Divine Mercy?

The sublime serenity of eternal peace!

The dreamy delight of everlasting joy!

The sweet sensations of endless love!

THE HERMITAGE OF DIVINE MERCY

Sometimes I foolishly

Sow the wind, and then

Reap the whirlwind,

And at times like this,

When I’m out of balance, 

When I’m out of patience,

I walk to my peaceful hermitage,

A quiet little place that is

Covered with Spanish tiles,

Surrounded by beautiful clusters

Of bright pink bougainvilleas and

Vibrant green little palm trees;

Here I search the Scriptures,

Conversing with the good God,

Like a lost frightened little child,

And I rest in the calm sweet

Arms of Our Lady of Love,

Who refreshes my soul in

The swirling breeze of the Spirit,

In the light of the Divine Mercy.

THE PURGATORIO: A DIVINE DRAMA

Based on Dante’s Purgatorio

Let’s now take a tour through the Purgatorio 

By going way way back to Dante’s time,

It’s all about poetic justice over there,

So let the punishment fit the crime!

They start at the base of the mountain,

From sea level they gradually ascend,

On an island surrounded by ocean,

Their souls must gradually mend.

The arrogant carry heavy boulders,

Their proud faces hilariously frowned,

For their weight crushes their bones,

Making a mighty crackling sound.

The envious up on the next level

Are stuck in an emotional rut,

They want to pull their hair out,

For their eyelids have been sewn shut.

The wrathful are on the next level,

Blinded by angry black smoke,

They try to breathe in some oxygen,

But hate makes them gag and choke.

The slothful are sleepy-eyed sluggards,

And yawning’s what they do for fun,

But now they scramble like maniacs,

Though exhausted, they run, run, run.

Next we encounter the greedy misers,

Who lie with their faces in the dust,

As scavengers searching for wealth,

They’re obsessed with the upper crust.

As we continue, we see the gluttonous,

They stretch but can’t reach the fruit,

It maddens them, making them crazy,

For their hunger indeed is acute.

Ascending higher, we reach the lustful,

Who leap high through the fiery flames,

They do it to win their freedom,

In the Purgatorial Olympic Games.

On Earth, these souls they were selfish,

And their sins, oh yes, they were many,

Sadly, they chose Justice over Mercy,

So they must pay back every last penny.

Yet they journey up towards Paradise,

Cleansed so much better than soap,

For the Purgatorio is a true blessing, 

Since it’s so full of heavenly hope.

THE INFERNO: A DIVINE COMEDY

Based on Dante’s Inferno

Let’s now take a tour through Dante’s

  Inferno by going back in time,

It’s all about poetic justice down there,

  So let the punishment fit the crime!

Hell is shaped like a giant funnel,

  And it leads to the center of the Earth,

It’s an ugly place with a vile stench,

  And it’s certainly not known for mirth.

In the Vestibule are those neither good

  Nor bad who are like the living dead,

And as they are stung by wild wasps,

  Their elastic eyes pop out of their head.

In Circle One are the honorable pagans,

  Who lived by the glory of reasoning,

These souls are feeling sad in limbo,

  Since they will never taste heavenly seasoning.

In Circle Two are those with carnal passions,

  Who allowed sensuality to abound,

Lustful lovers are kissed by a whirling tempest

  In an eternal merry-go-round.

In Circle Three are the vomit-stained gluttons,

  In a squalid snow unholy,

Three-headed Cerberus loves their fatty flavor

  Even more than a tasty cannoli.

In Circle Four are the hoarders and wasters,

  Whose only idol in life was money,

They all have heavy weights on their backs,

  And shuffle around kind of funny.

In Circle Five the wrathful are swimming

  In the swampy Stygian mud,

They look like the drool a cow spits out,

  After it has blandly chewed its cud.

A flame from the Great Tower

  Marks a shift from upper to lower hell,

This flashing fire signals hell’s capital

  In lieu of a funeral bell.

In Circle Six stands the City of Dis,

  Shrouded with the smokiest fog,

The heretics are cooked in flaming graves,

  As if they are a barbecued hot dog.

Circle Seven is a little bit different,

  And it’s divided into three separate rounds,

The sinners are suffering in divers ways,

  Making all kinds of screaming sounds.

In Round One are the violent souls,

  Mad warlords who wanted to be boss,

Their heads bob in a boiling river of blood,

  Like meatballs in tomato sauce.

In Round Two the suicides have turned into

  Trees that have black leaves on top,

Their souls are bottled up inside,

  Very much like bubbly soda pop.

In Round Three the blasphemers lie on burning sand,

  And it makes them really sizzle,

They must have heard the forecast wrong,

  Because there is a fiery drizzle.

Circle Eight is also quite unusual,

  Divided into bolgias numbering ten,

Each bolgia is a deep, cavernous ditch,

  More filthy than a swine’s muddy pen.

In Bolgia One are the selfish seducers,

  Who perennially rush around in a mob,

They look like interns late for the subway,

  Who are afraid of losing their job.

In Bolgia Two are the flatterers,

  Who speak words of sweet sugar-coated goo,

One of them falls into the pool of excrement,

  And swallows a mouthful or two.

Bolgia Three is lined with a honeycomb of tubes,

  For simoniacs who misused their position,

They’re crammed head-first into each of them,

  With their feet ignited by nuclear fission.

In Bolgia Four are the fortune tellers who

  Thought predicting the future was pretty neat,

But now they have their heads on backwards,

  And they look like twisted pretzels when they eat.

In Bolgia Five, the grafters look like fried frogs,

  Peering out from the boiling black tar,

When a demon raked one with a grappling hook,

  He felt like he got flattened by a car.

In Bolgia Six are the hypocrites, wearing

  Beautiful robes of the heaviest lead,

With buckling knees, they’re sweating bullets,

  And their faces are turning strawberry red.

In Bolgia Seven are the thieves,

  Who are grievously guilty of blame,

The serpents squeeze them very tight,

  And like matches they burst into flame.

In Bolgia Eight are the evil counselors,

  Whose murky malevolence is most dire,

They could really go for some lemonade,

  Since they are wading in a lake of fire.

In Bolgia Nine are the sowers of discord,

  Who are decapitated by a demon who looks drunk,

One of them palms his head in his hand,

  Like a basketball player preparing to dunk.

In Bolgia Ten are the crafty counterfeiters,

  Who loved to print monetary junk,

Now their skin is crusted with horrid diseases,

  And they have a stench like a fricasseed skunk.

In Circle Nine are the beastly betrayers,

  Whose souls are so grimly black,

The devil chews and chomps on them,

  In a crunchy never-ending snack.

Finally we’ve reached the bottom of hell,

  And our fascinating journey is done,

Hopefully Dante is pleased with the result,

  As we’ve had just a little bit of fun.

But the moral of the story is to remember always

  The very true words of St. John Vianney,

He put it quite well when he said with utter sincerity,

  “Hell exists!”

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.