When I wave the white flag
in the serene surrender of prayer,
I allow the water of my soul
to be poured freely into
His chalice of gold;
there I am baptized by Love
and born again,
transformed by the Transfigured,
changed forever by the sweet
new wine of the Spirit.
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
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,
WithMoreHomeworkMoreTermPapersAndNoParades,
There’sMoreFrustrationMoreFearAndTheirEnergyFadesAnd
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
Sometimes modern-day judges,
get creative and dabble in
Macbethian law,
and they proclaim:
“Fair shall be foul,
and foul shall be fair”;
but they should be like
good baseball umpires,
so should they call
a fair ball foul,
or a foul ball fair?
We are imprisoned by
multitudinous false gods:
mesmerized by materialism,
hypnotized by hedonism;
God is trying to get our attention,
but what will awaken us from
our slothful spiritual slumber?
the dread of a worldwide depression?
the horror of a nuclear holocaust?
the fear of a global pandemic?
death?
Her mouth opens wide
from a nasty frown,
Then as the rope flies up,
her teeth speed down;
Through bloody gossip
she lops off man’s head,
Thus his reputation is now
totally dead.
"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 the mess off 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.
It is a passiveness
That brings no peace;
It is an aggressiveness
That silently implodes;
It is blind to the kind,
It destroys all joys,
It chills; for it kills.
We excitedly rocket through
cyberspace at supersonic speeds,
obsessively and compulsively
ricocheting back and forth,
from website to website,
magnetically mesmerised
by the alluring amusements of
the information superhighway;
but we are oblivious to the
hideous horrors that lurk
right underneath us as the
black spirit of Sauron stirs
in the giant spider-demons
that track our every move,
creeping and crawling
stealthily through the
slime and stench of
the dark web,
insidiously seeking
to exploit our weaknesses
and drag us deep down
into the infernal abyss.
These little electronic
beasts
have insatiable
app-etites.
Like possessive pets,
they feast on my
attention --
they demand that I
stroke them and pet them,
constantly,
more and more and more,
until I’m dazed and confused and
technologically schmoozed.
And then,
when I least expect it,
their sleek semiconductors
swallow my sleepy
soul.
Act I
There was midnight madness
in the heart of darkness,
where lustful lovers caroused
and burned with wild passion,
and although they were
warned by pilgrims who
were on their way to Rome,
they lived the philosophy
of carpe diem:
they could always repent
tomorrow;
but early in the morning
on the very next day,
an event took place
that forever changed
the world of Pompeii:
it was August 24, 79 AD, and
proud Pompeii was bathed
in warm peaceful sunshine
when the earth began to quake
to the awakening heartbeat
that began to stir deep inside of
the voluptuous Vesuvius,
and here and there the roof tiles
of the stately city of Pompeii
undulated in a rhythmic motion,
up and down, and up and down,
before resting quietly
and slumbering again,
as Vesuvius silently and stealthily
yawned a slow stream of
thin white smoke into the
clear blue sky.
Act II
By the afternoon,
there was a light veil
of white smoke that now
draped Vesuvius’ verdant body,
but when she suddenly and
violently erupted in anger,
belching coal-colored smoke
from her crater’s trembling lips
and spewing it high into
the pale blue sky,
it was only a matter of seconds
before flaming black rocks,
like Mephistophelian meteorites,
revengefully rained down
from the swiftly darkening sky,
smashing the roof tiles and
crushing the marble statues
above the villas’ courtyards;
meanwhile, the stunned citizens
scrambled and stumbled around
as the vigorous heartbeat
of the vain Vesuvius
pounded powerfully,
and a cataclysmic earthquake
ripped through Pompeii:
the sleeping giant
was now fully awake;
as the terrified men and women
raised their wild eyes
to the sullen sky,
they screamed like savages
and cursed their pagan gods
for punishing them,
and they spat in the air
at their pathetic gods.
Act III
Several hours later,
above the hellish rubble
of this humbled city,
the black sun approached the
black horizon and ominous clouds
suffocated the helpless sky:
Pompeii wailed in pain
and writhed woefully
under the victorious Vesuvius,
who was bathed in the seductive
red glow of liquid lava;
electric bolts of
volcanic lightning danced
like convulsive demons
and lit up the murky sky
as ashen rain fell feebly
to the flaming ruins below;
maimed dogs howled in horror
at the shockingly surreal and
apocalyptic spectacle,
while the lonely human survivors,
their psyches severely shattered,
huddled together for cover
under the crumbling columns
that were sinking in a sea of
charcoal-gray ashes.
Act IV
As the sun slowly rose
the next morning,
the new day dawned with
a deep deafening silence,
and the sickly sun shuddered
as it peered through the
broken black clouds,
lamenting the loss of the
once grand city of Pompeii;
as the scattered survivors
clutched ever so tightly to
their shredded sliver of hope,
it appeared that perhaps the
volcanic storm had finally
exhausted itself,
and the remaining citizens,
with empty expressions
on their blank faces,
slowly and weakly
began the process of
putting the splintered pieces
of their lives back together again;
but in the distance
they suddenly heard a
thunderous roar that
rapidly and frighteningly
crescendoed as it drew nearer,
sounding very much like
a stampede of the gods;
with great trepidation,
the people lifted their
bloodshot eyes and they saw a
massive wall of
whirling gray clouds --
as tall as Vesuvius herself --
rushing madly along the
surface of the ground and
coming right towards them;
it paused momentarily,
as if trying to catch its breath,
before making one last
diabolical attack upon its enemy;
then in a twinkle of time,
the voracious cloud of hot ash
charged through and hungrily devoured
the crumpled carcass
of pitiful Pompeii.
Act V
As Time drearily dragged the
morning into afternoon,
the poor Pompeians
were forever frozen
and cemented into history,
buried alive under a twelve-foot
blizzard of blazing ashes;
the solitary sun looked down
sadly upon the waveless
gray ocean of volcanic ash,
and Pompeii was nothing more
than a desolate wasteland --
even the powerful Vesuvius
was left seriously crippled,
with her cone blown off
by the explosiveness of her fury;
when the news of this event finally
reached the imperial city of Rome,
Pope Cletus gathered for mass
with his flock and, together,
they fervently prayed for
the souls of the victims who perished
in the very dark tragedy of
the doomed city of Pompeii.
Was he actually
humble?
Or did his pride
puff
like swollen eyelids and make him
stumble?
Was he possibly
kind?
Or did silent envy
creep
like a serpent into his
mind?
Did he patiently
wait?
Or did his simmering anger
boil
as he smelled that costly nard with
hate?
Did he have
zeal?
Or was his faith
sluggish
like at his last supper
meal?
Did he perchance
share?
Or did his fingers
clutch
the silver coins to keep in his
lair?
Did his temperance avoid every
snag?
Or was he a glutton who
gobbled
all the leftover loaves from the
bag?
Did he have self-
control?
Or did he pant and burn for
power
since killing the Romans was his
goal?
Did he ultimately
repent?
Or did his faithless soul
fall
through the noose like
cement?
I turn around and before me you stand,
one whose robe is dazzlingly white,
As you speak my name and say “Mary,”
you forever shatter my deep dark night;
With great love, you bestow your peace upon me,
through your wonderfully warm brown eyes,
Your merciful smile cheers my heart,
so that my soul can most sweetly arise;
In the joyful breeze of the Holy Spirit,
your flowing hair very gently swirls,
In my heart I totally surrender to you,
and for you this is a treasure of pearls.
In a shadow of deep darkness, the Light
of the world hangs crooked on the cross,
A jagged crown of razor-thin thorns is
thrust maliciously into His throbbing head;
Bright-red blood and the fickle crowd’s
sour spittle trickle into His stinging eyes,
He licks His cracked lips, and He tastes
the bold bitter flavor of blood.
The Roman soldiers’ wild whips tore
and radically ripped Jesus’ holy flesh,
And now the sticky crusted wounds cling
to the weatherbeaten wood and ooze;
Knife-like nails puncture His hands and feet,
and make them look like cored apples,
His shoulders slump down, crushed under
the weight of every sin in human history.
The soldiers hellishly hammered the nails
into Jesus’ flesh, as if He were an animal,
Indescribable pain blasted through the
bones of His body like dynamite;
He now surrenders His body, mind, soul,
and spirit to the will of His Father,
He lovingly practices what He preached,
and He prays for His persecutors.
Jesus is high up, as if atop an isolated
island, surrounded by a sea of hate,
A cacophonous chorus of insults assails
His ears, and the smell of sin is in the air;
His mother, living in the dark night of
unknowing, silently waits and watches,
She kneels in total surrender, while a
sword of sorrow slashes her heavy heart.
In the afternoon, Golgotha is enveloped
in a mysterious murky darkness,
Then, when Jesus dies, the earth quakes
in violent anger at the murder of its Creator;
Rumbling and roaring, buildings catastrophically
crash and crumble to the ground,
The terrifying temblor forces the sanctuary’s
curtain to explosively burst apart.
That mysterious murky darkness remains
in the hearts of Jesus’ faithful followers,
Their entire worlds are seriously shaken,
and they are stunned and stupefied;
But on the third day, the nebulous fog
of uncertainty will finally dissolve,
On the third day, a heavenly ray of Light
will come, far brighter than the sun.
A Divine Mercy Prayer
All-powerful, most holy, most high, and
Supreme God, I am so sorry for hurting you:
I impudently spat upon your sorrowful face,
I violently scourged your most blessed body,
I scornfully crowned your holy head with thorns,
I savagely kicked you as you fell with the cross,
I cruelly crucified your flesh with stinging nails;
In short, I have bitterly tortured you
With every single one of my sins against you.
I despise and abhor all my many sins,
Including any I have withheld from you in the past —
Mortal sins or venial —
Or never confessed honestly,
Or forgot about;
And I accuse myself
Of being guilty of high treason
Against your Divine Majesty,
Deserving to be executed — and exiled —
Because my sins offend you, Lord God,
Who are all good, supremely good,
Totally good, who alone are good.
You deserve only my heartfelt love
And blind obedience to your holy will.
Therefore, I hereby make this declaration and resolution:
I am absolutely and utterly determined,
Through your sweet holy graces
And your unfathomable Divine Mercy,
To be your humble and obedient slave,
Through Mary, the Queen of All Hearts,
And to be your faithful servant
Who with promptitude runs away
From the false enticements of all sin,
And the empty allure of all temptation.
Instead, I completely surrender myself
Into your warm embrace
And with a heart bountifully overflowing
With sincere thanksgiving
For your magnificent mercy,
I receive your loving kiss of peace.
Amen.
Jesus, Lord of Divine Mercy,
I pray for the fruit of the Spirit —
Love, joy, peace,
Patience, kindness, generosity,
Faithfulness, gentleness, self-control —
For myself, for my family,
For my community, for the world.
Madonnina d’Amore, pray for us.
St. Joseph the Worker, pray for us.
St. Michael the Archangel, pray for us.
Holy Guardian Angels, pray for us.
St. Francis of Assisi, pray for us.
St. Clare of Assisi, pray for us.
St. Bernadette of Lourdes, pray for us.
Venerable Fulton J. Sheen, pray for us.
St. Mother Teresa, pray for us.
St. John Paul II, pray for us.
Jesus, Lord of Love,
Thank you for these precious gifts.
In the deep dark night,
Let my little candle shine bright
In your magnificent Light.
Amen.
Whoever says he is in the light,
Yet hates his brother or sister,
Is still in the darkness --
But beware 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.