Finding Refuge In My Dreams

Finding refuge in my dreams
Traipsing through Baudelaire’s flowers
I sing a silent dirge to my soul
Tracing her petals within Summer’s shower


Caught in the currents of missteps
Former words no longer voiced
Lightness of a delicate vision
We heard the morning’s rain rejoice


Politely declining a dreadful umbrella
Walking out, always been man enough to weep
Soaked; tears all the way through
Drowning; maybe now the sunset will let me sleep

Jesus Was A Rouge Agent

Photo by Harry Smith on Pexels.com

Jesus was a rouge agent
Calling out institutions woefully unjust
Up-ending currents & the status quo
Powers that be & reigning corporate trusts

Holding fast in the face of arbitrary traditions
We won’t look to long at your offbeat proclivities
Unnerved authenticity & outspoken truth
But they’ll chalk it up as additional incivility

Looking again to God, but knowing She won’t talk
Red-lettered honesty; realism against expectation
Unvarnished tales of the meekest souls
Rapt against our most quietly brave ministrations