One Sunday morning an old cowboy entered a church just before services
were to begin. Although the old man and his clothes were spotlessly clean, he wore jeans, a denim shirt and boots that were very worn and ragged.
In his hand he carried a worn out old hat and an equally worn out Bible.
The church he entered was in a very upscale part of the city. It was the largest and most beautiful church the old cowboy had ever seen.
The other people in the congregation were all wearing upscale, expensive clothing.
As the cowboy took a seat, the others moved away from him. No one greeted, spoke to, or welcomed him. They were appalled at his appearance and didn’t attempt to hide it.
As the old cowboy was leaving the church after the service the preacher approached him
and asked the cowboy to do him a favor. "Before you come back in here, have a talk with God and ask him what he thinks would be
appropriate attire for worship."
The old cowboy assured the preacher he would. But the next Sunday he was wearing the same
ragged jeans, shirt, boots, and hat. Once again he was completely shunned and ignored.
After the service the preacher again said to the man and said, "I
thought I asked you to speak to God about your attire before you came back to our church."
"I did," replied the old cowboy.
“And what did God tell you about the proper attire for worshiping in this church?” demanded the preacher.
"Well, sir,” the old cowboy said, “God told me He didn't have a clue what I should wear. He said He'd never been in this church.” #SLAMDUNK
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I know you dance in the old way
hardly anyone does anymore –
smooth and graceful,
holding your partner close,
twirling at just the right time.
I, a child of the fifties,
vaguely remember the fox trot,
the polka and swing your partner do-si-do.
I might be able to fake the box step
as violins sob out the wavelets
of the Blue Danube, but you
will have to lead, always.
And how I long for you to do just that,
extending your hand, lifting me from my chair,
taking to the floor to teach me civilization,
as I, head buried in your neck, inhale
the grace and beauty of a time I never lived.
let's go my darling on a quiet walk to nowhere to everywhere
the world awaits no need for words
we'll simply be together
in time in space in love
the world awaits no need for words
as we wander exploring the fierce beauty of this garden
in time in space in love
we'll know the perfection of circles completed
as we wander exploring the fierce beauty of this garden
fingers entwined in love knots of forever
we'll know the perfection of circles completed
in the silence of devotion
The memory of almost-scalding water baptizes me with its melody;
the shower is one of my favorite but little-visited refuges from the noise of nonsense.
I leave my skin unwashed for two days, three, sometimes more.
This gives me an excuse for extended indulgence.
The shower is one of my favorite but little-visited refuges from the noise of nonsense.
I’m waxed with the accretions of many days and nights.
This gives me an excuse for extended indulgence;
I need not defend the time spent there.
I’m waxed with the accretions of many days and nights,
hot passion unspent; the one for whom it's meant unavailable.
I need not defend the time spent there,
in the bed of imagination, where the impossible becomes my reality.
when i walk the damp sand where the sea kisses the shore
trying not to add my own salt to the cold green water
i see you in every wavelet washing over
my feet
when i get home and throw myself into a lawn chair
light up inhale exhale and stare up at the dappled sky
your smile floats in the smoke soaring on
the breeze
when i stand in the kitchen throwing dinner together
instead of letting things pile up to be washed later
i clean up as i go and there you are in the corner by the
fridge nodding
I
Lightning doesn't strike twice. Not this kind.
I’ll never be debriefed. Not in this life.
I gorged myself on fairy tales
for far too long.
I’ll never be debriefed. Not in this life.
Waiting for a happy ending, I held out a wickless candle
for far too long,
daring to hope for more.
Waiting for a happy ending, I held out a wickless candle,
an unpretty little girl
daring to hope for more.
Now I suit up, the faceless rivers retreating.
Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess with three handsome suitors.
Each suitor tried bus best to charm the princess, but the princess could not choose which handsome suitor to marry.
The princess did love ping pong, though, and decided to test the suitors' love.
She summoned all three to the grand hall and said, “Whoever brings me the most ping pong balls shall have my hand in marriage - this is my test of love!" Each suitor went off to meet the challenge.
The first suitor came back a few weeks later with a parade of horse-drawn carriages filled with ping pong balls. The convoy stretchedas far as the eye could see. Altogether they amounted to a million ping pong balls and the princess was impressed.