the sloth inside us all

Not feeling too productive tonight, so i just typed up the poem i wrote for MAACS i must igve credit for the title to the MAACS person who decided to make that the topic to spark our creativity...what a genius. Craig, congrats on the ipod...we'll have to get yo uall se tup this weekend, or tomorrow. I really miss Rubbish andseeing all you public schoolers...alas, i can wait til the weekend (you punks that don't have school on friday...gosh!). Later kids.

Teenagers With Bibles in Hand

Separating like oil and water,
a dichotomy of canon-wielding
adolescents and the morally dead
revealed itself, forced itself upon some.

A jagged face, missing chunks from previous conflict,
took surface level emotions to a new power.
Foam of fury driveled down
eroded canals on the ancient façade,
so much passion from one who had nothing
to be passionate about.

Disdain looked down on the clear water
with nepotistic arrogance.
Compassion looked hopefully through the tar-black mess,
wanting to clean up, but too distracted
by the marred face to do anything but stare.

A gull, sick of pestering crustaceans,
ventured near the conflict.
Flapping wings fought the descent too late.
Now, coated with the oily hate
from Satan’s leaky cauldron,
he sat,
stuck in his mistake.

The waters below remained idle,
waiting for a miracle.
Some bubbles futilely floated upwards,
having no effect on the growing slick.
Others remained, praying for patience
superceding the quantity of kelp
consumed by sperm whales,
or some other amount.

Fire descended in droplets,
burning holes in the expanse
masquerading as a real surface.
Black smoke rose, as did pure waters,
finally free to spread their life.
No fear of contamination
lurked deep in their hearts as before.
Really, it was just cowardice.
If a few had gone together,
even the jagged face, transformed
by their Gospel, would have joined up.
The fires, though unstoppable,
would have fizzled out, no harm done.