poetry

Learning is earning… even when we bomb.

I attended my first-ever poetry slam last night. Something I have wanted to do for years. I put it all out there; I tried hard … but my work didn’t make it past the first round. Even lovesick teenagers lamenting how wrongly they were treated by some bygone lover scored higher than me.

Should I quit writing? No. I should focus.

Here’s what I mean…

The poem I chose to lead with (and end with) is a bit heavy. It speaks of how easily it is to get gobbled up by relationships, jobs, society–and end up trapped, unable to get free. The poem begins, “I have been eaten by a wolf. You cannot see me…”

It’s a bit deep for many folks. And the 20-something judges, especially, didn’t seem to have a clue about what I was saying. It wasn’t their fault, though. It was mine. I could have focused in on the audience, maybe included some preamble to set the situation.

I was speaking to people who came to be entertained that night. Most of them young rappers. Big lesson learned: Know your goal, and be sure it is clear to those to whom you are trying to communicate that goal.

And… you can’t be everything to everyone.

Here’s the poem that began my poetry slam endeavors:

I have been eaten by a wolf, you cannot see me.
But, Perhaps you can hear me speak from inside the beast
if I try. I will try.

There are others here… This wolf is voracious
he seeks day and night to devour every fool he can.
Sometimes the wolf dresses like a woman, sometimes like a man, sometimes like an EMPLOYER, sometimes like your own MOTHER…
By the time you realize you are being eaten it is
Almost Too late.

We try to make the best of it here. We tell one another about “some day.” We sing songs and hold hands and pray. God, how we pray.

Here is our dilemma: The wolf is ravenous and bold. His yellow wolf-eyes are greedy. His appetite is never satisfied. Never. He stalks day and night. He never sleeps. Never. Even if we were able to escape,
somehow escape, He would Pounce without MERCY
anger unBEARable.

His wolf-teeth dripping wolf-saliva fangs into our flesh
Bleeding furious wolf-feeding his friends gather
like hyenas and lions and ugly horrible
creatures unseen would immediately devour, destroy, die.

If… If you can hear me, friend, then I ask only one thing please…
do you know a Wolf-SLAYER?

Okay… so I can see why that poem might not fly in a rap contest. Later, though, the slam director told me several audience members told her they hoped I would be back next year to try again.

Focus is the key, Don. Live and learn.

I’m seldom rendered speechless, but today I’m close to it. And it is not because of North Korea’s treatment of “foreign invaders.” That is not news. Aijalon Mahli Gomes and Robert Park must have been aware of the danger they faced by entering the country without permission. Mess with the bull and you get the horns.

Walking into North Korea, carrying nothing but a Bible and a smile, is an act that can’t be explained in normal terms. The deafening silence from Robert Park, concerning his own experience as a guest of North Korea, witnesses to that.

Right or wrong, sane or insane, true or false–the actions taken by these two young Christians defy logic.

This Day

Normal days are like this: Darkness is turned to light. The blind receive their sight. Wrongs are made right. Yes, normal days are like this, but few of us are amazed.

Here is what happens: We become accustomed to the miraculous and lose the magic. Life becomes just another day, another dollar, another trip south. Another, “Who cares?”

Here is what happens: Those who are most precious to us become our enemies. Those to whom we owe the most, we treat the worst. The television news show is more urgent than the voice of a child wanting to play. Answering e-mail is more important than saying, “I love you.”

We begin to disappear, long before death overtakes us. We become cogs in the machine, zombies rolling out of bed, consumers of plastic toys and throw-away containers. Our big concern is gas mileage. Our main ambition is money in the bank. Our over-riding emotion is fear… for we cannot face the reality of our non-existence. Happy hour is God on Sunday. This is what happens to the best of us.

Perhaps someone tries to warn us, but we scold them, we chastise them, they must be silenced, status quo is the way to go, it’s always been done like this. We shut them away quickly so that their disturbing ideas are silenced. No one visits them. The guards become infected and must be replaced. They get early retirement, or are given other positions of promise in return for their silence. Shhhhh. No one must know.

Nothing is sacred. We want sanitary preachers in clean suits and not too bold ties. We will gladly give them our money, if they continue to leave us alone. Let us wilt and die. Some of them become show-men. This is a helpful diversion. A room-full of imposters can hide the Truth and allow us to believe our chosen lie. We can pretend that all lunacy is equal. We need not listen with our hearts, our cold hearts. We are safe from wisdom here. We have money and highways and malls. We have universities and basketball and cheerleaders.

I write this to warn you. You are not safe. The Lion is loose. Your life is at stake.

You may be asked to be kind to a stranger—the one with unclean hands. You may be asked to visit the imprisoned, tend the sick, give your belongings to the poor, even deny yourself…and not just on Sundays only. Beware. The time is soon upon us. The hour is near. The Master cometh….Even at the door.

You see…normal days are like this: Darkness is turned to light. The blind receive their sight. Wrongs are made right. And hardly anyone is amazed.