Buddy Wakefield was the opening act for Ani DiFranco last night. I liked him, though I didn't love him. Here's the poem he said that I probably like the most:
The most shocking thing he said is God is a dick. Actually, he said something more like if God is really going to have all of us line up in a really long single line and even though a lot of us sought (goodness, light, right living), he chooses a few to save because they picked a select religion and then he burns the rest of us. For ever. Then God is a dick.
I thought that was a very bold statement for him to make. That's quite trusting of who your audience to think no one will be offended or have a fit after you call God a dick. But I respected his statement. I got the same idea in a softer form from Anne Lamott years ago. She said if God wouldn't let her best friend Pammy in heaven because she wasn't a Christian, then she (Anne) wasn't going either. That's very big to me but I finally understand.
Buddy's blog is at http://buddywakefield.com/category/journal/
The text for Hurling Crowbirds at Mockingbars:
Hurling Crowbirds at Mockingbars(Hope is Not a Course of Action)
August 11, 2009
If we were created in God’s image
then when God was a child
he smushed fire ants with his fingertips
and avoided tough questions.
There are ways around being the go-to person
even for ourselves
even when the answer is clear
like the holy water Gentiles drank
before they realized Forgiveness
is the release of all hope for a better past.
I thought those were chime shells in your pocket
so I chucked a quarter at it
hoping to hear some part of you
respond on a high note.
You acted like I was hurling crowbirds at mockingbars
and abandoned me for not making sense.
Evidently, I don’t experience things as rationally as you do.
For example, I know mercy
when I have enough money to change the jukebox at a gay bar
(somebody’s gotta change that shit).
You understand the power of God’s mercy
whenever someone shoves a stick of morphine
straight up into your heart.
It felt amazing
the days you were happy to see me
so I smashed a beehive against the ocean
to try and make our splash last longer.
Remember all the honey
had me lookin’ like a jellyfish ape
but you walked off the water in a porcupine of light
strands of gold
drizzling out to the tips of your wasps.
This is an apology letter to the both of us
for how long it took me to let things go.
It was not my intention to make such a
production of the emptiness between us
playing tuba on the tombstone of a soprano
to try and keep some dead singer’s perspective alive.
It’s just that I coulda swore you had sung me a love song back there
and that you meant it
but I guess sometimes people just chew with their mouth open
so I ate ear plugs alive with my throat
hoping they’d get lodged deep enough inside the empty spots
that I wouldn’t have to hear you leaving
so I wouldn’t have to listen to my heart keep saying
all my eggs were in a basket of red flags
all my eyes to a bucket of blindfolds
in the cupboard with the muzzles and the gauze
ya know I didn’t mean to speed so far out and off
trying to drive all your nickels to the well
when you were happy to let them wishes drop
but I still show up for gentleman practice
in the company of lead dancers
hoping their grace will get stuck in my shoes.
Is that a handsome shadow on my breath, sweet woman
or is it a cattle call
in a school of fish? Still dance with me
less like a waltz for panic
more for the way we’d hoped to swing
the night we took off everything
and we were swingin’ for the fences
don’t hold it against
you know I wanna breath deeper than this
you know I didn’t mean to look so serious
didn’t mean to act like a filthy floor
didn’t mean to turn us both into a cutting board
but there were knives s-stuck
in the words where I came from
too much time in the back of my words.
I pulled knives from my back and my words.
I cut trombones from the moment you slipped away
and I know it left me lookin’ like a knife fight, lady
yeah you know it left me feelin’ like a shotgun shell
you know I know I mighta gone and lost my breath
but I wanna show ya how I found my breath
it was buried under all the wind instruments
hidden in your castanets
if ya ever wanna know how it felt when ya left
yeah if you ever wanna come inside
just knock on the spot
where I finally pressed STOP
playing musical chairs with exit signs.
I’m gonna cause you a miracle
when you see the way I kept God’s image alive.
is for anybody
who needs a safe passage through my mind.
If I was really created in God’s image
then when God was a boy
he wanted to grow up to be a man
a good man
and when God was a man
a good man
He started telling the truth in order to get honest responses.
I really shoulda wore my cross
but I don’t wanna scare the gentiles off.”
Lessons from my RID Project continue…even years later. - Stumbled across THIS today. Money quote: “”We all have at least one, but, in many cases, multiple items that we hold onto — even though we no longer use th...
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