(from THE PULLING DOWN OF STRONGHOLDS--the GRAND FINALE!)

LOCUSTS & WILD HONEY (REPROBATE RHAPSODY)

Choice voices rejoicing stand out; chiming bells ring all around, surrounding all about…
Rounding out the sad & bitter sinking sounds of forgotten wisdom crying out—
It cries because the Wise and the Chosen have wisely chosen to stay in,
To stay out of its path, out of the way, and on the highway out by then…
But praises ring out in our souls like sodden towels, like wet rags—
And though God numbers the very hair on our heads, beyond a shadow of a doubt,
His messengers and head ushers must wear cheap plastic nametags.
For these days, the Chosen no longer usher in an age,
And Sunday, four aging ushers no longer chose to bathe.
The Risen God said to daily die, and the dead bury the dead.
The Father laughed, “That should keep them busy, just like the Prophet said!”


The lowest rung of Hell
Has rung the bell for service
And service starts at 10AM,
That the great I AM shall let us out by noon.
Because ignorance is bliss,
Knowing that we’re ignorant is sin—
Covered by the blood promise,
With a covered dish to follow then...
Thy will be done or be done away with soon,
But after Show & Tell…
Behold Hollywood Bethlehem!
...................(Today is the day—hosanna, hooray—
...................But the Hotel Hallelujah is full,
...................And there’s nowhere left for me to stay.
...................No, there’s nothing left,
...................Except goodbye.)

Yes, joy came in the morning;
It left on the afternoon flight.
Jesus wept, but what’s not to like?
The yolk of Christ is easy…
But I’m afraid His toast is light.
His children are the salt of the earth—
Born to lightly salt His egg-whites,
Dying daily since the second birth…
The yolk of Christ is easy…
Easy like Sunday Morning—
Easy like falling off a bike.
...................(Cry me a river, and I’ll drown you like a rat—
...................When I was born again, the Devil cut the cord
...................I won’t hate myself for God; I can’t live like that.
...................No, there’s nothing left,
...................Except goodbye.)

The saints are not quite marching in,
But marching into creeks and inlets…
A bitter pill, but better end.
Sure, there is power in the blood,
But there are never any outlets—
Smoldering without a conscience to sear…
Christ’s body creates bizarre giblets,
But makes plenty of leftovers, I hear…
And golden calves chew golden cud.
We live our lies through faith, amen—
Blind faith that some blindly defend.
...................(Born twice, and appointed once to die—
...................To sleep in sorrow, to wake in hate.
...................March forth one second to die like Mayflies.
...................Lord, there’s nothing left…
...................Father, goodbye.)


They are not here for the fish and loaves; they are not here for milk and honey…
They sure as hell aren’t here for the milk and cookies; honey, they’re here for me.
The cycle has begun anew, and this time, baby, it’s set on rinse…
Let its blessings shower all that we touch—I’m afraid of leaving prints.
When everything became a crime, and every man became a glass-eyed glutton…
They prayed locusts would scourge us all—but rain falls on both good and bad, you see.
Feasting on the fleece of fleeced beasts, meat of sheep and shepherd both mangled, minced as mutton.
Listen closely, children—the sound you thought was your heart beating,
Is the gleeful beating of the Locust horde’s frenzied feeding…
Those born to serve were served up just as well, best I can tell…
It’s wild out there, honey…and the Locusts are eating well.


)+(