i have nothing left to offer
but
blood from a thorny crown
i have nothing left to show
except
cruel suffering upon a cross
i have nothing left to teach
only
faded memories of dead disciples
i have nothing left to share
except
this hell of a path to god
i have nothing left to shout
but
a final "Jesus H. Christ!"
nothing left
- Doreen Peri
- Site Admin
- Posts: 14601
- Joined: July 10th, 2004, 3:30 pm
- Location: Virginia
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thanks, Dor'... you brought me a morning smile.
Arcadia - the "H" included within I first heard as a young boy from my father. I really don't know where that came from originally, but have heard it used many years since, sometimes adding "Jesus H. Christ on a crutch!" Maybe a U.S. thing...? Quien sabe??
Arcadia - the "H" included within I first heard as a young boy from my father. I really don't know where that came from originally, but have heard it used many years since, sometimes adding "Jesus H. Christ on a crutch!" Maybe a U.S. thing...? Quien sabe??

divine (d)evolution
there was a time when I was alive
when no one cared to record my voice
or write my story in my own language—
and already they were killing me
and already I was crying
Eli, Eli, why have you forsaken me?
and then they seemed to care a little—
and then they took each jot and tittle
and carefully transcribed my life in learned ways
and gave my praise and all their crap to IHCOYC—
and I took it at that classic name (hopefully more than an odious Grecian Urn fit for a god),
but began to notice how they forsook my whole for their limited classic image.
there was a time when I was beautiful
when I was art and lovely, admired and adored.
but eventually they traded my poverty for power
and my starvation for a set of six-pack abs
and my scars for a rationale for oppression
& there wasn’t even room for my whole name on their masterpieces: just an abbreviated IHC.
not only did I not mind, but I celebrated
when they cared a little again
and decided to move out of the classics and into real life—
the strife I owned and own and owned and own and share with them—
and I was so happy when my IHC became JHC
'cuz at least maybe they wanted their writing to match their voices & at last stop lying to me.
somewhere I was forgotten—
'stead of doing some classic homework or trying to remember the name my mama called me,
they made up what details seemed to make the most sense—
Jesus H Christ
(as if being singled out for murder and miracle was more of a surname than a title),
it’s not bad, but what about that H?—is it nothing more than Harry Truman’s S?
Heaven
Hell
Heckle
Hooker
Homo
Ecce Homo? if there’re still waiting for me to come back; will they know to behold the man?
there was a time when I was alive
when no one cared to record my voice
or write my story in my own language—
and already they were killing me
and already I was crying
Eli, Eli, why have you forsaken me?
and then they seemed to care a little—
and then they took each jot and tittle
and carefully transcribed my life in learned ways
and gave my praise and all their crap to IHCOYC—
and I took it at that classic name (hopefully more than an odious Grecian Urn fit for a god),
but began to notice how they forsook my whole for their limited classic image.
there was a time when I was beautiful
when I was art and lovely, admired and adored.
but eventually they traded my poverty for power
and my starvation for a set of six-pack abs
and my scars for a rationale for oppression
& there wasn’t even room for my whole name on their masterpieces: just an abbreviated IHC.
not only did I not mind, but I celebrated
when they cared a little again
and decided to move out of the classics and into real life—
the strife I owned and own and owned and own and share with them—
and I was so happy when my IHC became JHC
'cuz at least maybe they wanted their writing to match their voices & at last stop lying to me.
somewhere I was forgotten—
'stead of doing some classic homework or trying to remember the name my mama called me,
they made up what details seemed to make the most sense—
Jesus H Christ
(as if being singled out for murder and miracle was more of a surname than a title),
it’s not bad, but what about that H?—is it nothing more than Harry Truman’s S?
Heaven
Hell
Heckle
Hooker
Homo
Ecce Homo? if there’re still waiting for me to come back; will they know to behold the man?
Last edited by joel on March 25th, 2007, 7:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Every genuinely religious person is a heretic, and therefore a revolutionary" -- GBShaw
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