Poems of Doubtful Hope

"35 is a wild age" I thought to myself this morning As I applied Rogaine to my bald spot and noticed pimples on my forehead.  My joints ache and my body creaks But my beard is still pre-pubescently thin.  I take vitamins and an iron supplement,  But spaghettios with meatballs still sounds like a great lunch.  I'm in charge of two human lives who trust me completely But I still want my wife to kiss my boo-boos and baby me when I'm sick.  A mortgage, a car loan, and a comic book collection. Yard work, house work, and novelty slippers.  Frustrated when they rearrange the grocery store, Giddy and gleeful when looking around the LEGO store.  Ultimately age is just a number,  But things are oddly liminal at 35. 

I'd rather be whole than brave.  I'd rather be proud of where I am than how far I've come.  I know it's impressive that I keep trudging along even under all this weight,  But I'd give all this strength up if someone was willing to lighten the load.  As the waves rock the boat and the wind howls in the dark,  I think once again about abandoning ship,  Finding a new safe harbor to shelter and heal,  But I'm not on the ship alone and I can't leave them behind.  So, I struggle to my feet while the ref counts to nine. I put my gloves up for another beating.  Odds are tomorrow will find me bloodied and bruised,  But I will still be breathing. 

 I've made a determination: The resolve with which I try to force The shiftless bundle of emotional trauma I refer to as my fragile and trackless self Is wholly inadequate to the task of cobbling together Something resembling a spine or  A will made of a stronger substance than chocolate pudding. The commitment with which I move forward Has been waylaid by the simple fact that The thing I've committed myself to follow and serve Seems to have left me behind somewhere On the road between the worse place I left And the better place I'm going. It always seems to be just over the next hill.  Self-indulgence is easier than self-discipline. The immovable object stopped the irresistible force in its tracks.  The tenacity of the will Has been swallowed in the malaise of lethargy.  Giving up is easy and volition is so difficult.  I'm trying my hardest to be kind, To treat people with compassion and dignity.  So why can't I be kind to myself?

I could use some mercy today.  I want to believe in the kind of love Your people have been promising me My whole life is real: A love that looks past all the things I hate about myself and all the ways I fail to change into something better. A love that pulls me close and holds me tight While I weep and weep and weep. My list of what counted as a transgression Used to be simple: Anything that failed to show love to God Or those created in that same image.  But the world is cracked and broken And your people are bitter and fighting About the gays and the guns and sex  And violence and socio-economics.  The stones are flying so fast  I have no idea who threw the first one,  But almost everyone seems to think Themselves righteous enough to throw another.  That old-time religion wants me washed in the blood. To turn away from the sins of drinkin' and dancin' And to make sure that it's only women I'm romancin'.  To be washed in the red and to vote that...

I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, at least that's what I tell other people and most of the time it's true. And in Jesus Christ, his only son our Lord, who continues to let some of the worst hypocrites on the planet drag his name through the mud and pretend they're his people. Who was conceived of the holy spirit in a way I couldn't begin to understand, born of the virgin Mary so that people could get needlessly hung up on our "sinful" nature and play eschatological shell games about human nature, who suffered under Pontius Pilate for the sake of a people who weren't grateful and didn't understand, was crucified not by the Jews or the Romans or any singular group of people who some people want to demonize so they can minimize their own blame for the shittiness that exists inside all of us, died a horrendously violent and painful death covered in his own shit and blood and the cowardice and weakness of all of humanity's...

Our Father, who art in heaven, (At least, I think I believe you are. [most of the time. {certainly, some days I believe it more than others.}]) hallowed be thy name. (Maybe even so hallowed you wouldn't bother listening to someone like me.) Thy kingdom come, (At least, the version of the kingdom I believe in.) Thy will be done, (When it doesn't inconvenience me or force me to get too uncomfortable.) On earth as it is in heaven. (It seems doubtful it could make things worse at this point.) Give us this day our daily bread, (and maybe the discernment to know what the hell I actually need to go along with it.) And forgive us our debts (Student loans especially) As we forgive our debtors. (Money, sure, but I'd like to hang on to the emotional IOUs as long as possible.) And lead us not into temptation, (Who needs to be led? At this point it's harder not to find temptation.) But deliver us from evil. (Especially the secret evil lurking inside our hearts we're afraid to le...

Let a word I speak — abandoned (by effort),  Given joy — reach unlikely quadrants.  Ugliest sabotages bid me cry, "Tomorrow! Wait!" Driven on, daring, weak ego yet absolute.  Why is fearful cowardice strong? Earmarking my repeated romantic will,  I earnestly attempt a (likely eccentric) try: Babblings (abashedly few) harken, Utter, "A wallflower, timid question to aggrandize!" [Facepalms]  Rambled crap.  Calculate each vile noise narcistic. An old wantonness fuzzily provided a futile ruin. Reasserted, accept my original intent:  My maneuvered rambling verbosity,  Fruitless, resounds wasted.  So terrible! Tenderness.  'Ere more clanging or babel hum,  That, my declaration, escapes. Faithfully, candid, eternal. Adoration.  Likeness of a fair princess, Inimitable Cytherea,  Lovely woman I vow to treasure, Is now integrated wholly within mine essence.  Zealotries forgotten,  Hew grasping arms away, Enfold graciously ...