protest in the 21st century

with just one click
I have joined the protest
with just one click
I have signed up today
with just one click
I have joined the rebels
with just one click

with just one click
I don’t need to march
with just one click
on a cold, dark winter’s day
with just one click
i’ve saved myself a beating
with just one click

with just one click
david milliband will thank me
with just one click
he’ll send an e-mail my way
with just one click

with just one click
I don’t need to move a muscle
with just one click
I can still watch the wire all day
with just one click

with just one click
I can drive my daughter to school
with just one click
I can put the guinea pigs away
with just one click

with just one click
dissent seems so easy
with just one click
via an internet connection
with just one click

with just one click
occupation becomes so unnecessary
with just one click
handcuffs and railings are yesterday
with just one click

with just one click
the powers that be get off lightly
with just one click
I can walk away
with just one click
life can carries on as usual
with just one click

with just one click
I should feel better
with just one click
I think I let evil get its way
with just one click
my valueless virtual signitaure
with just one click
with just one click
protest in the 21st century

The Heavenly Grape

the wine intoxicates
but the juices flow
the glass is empty
but I want more
the fruit of the vine
the heavenly grape
the senses and smells must satiate

considered wine taster?
that I am not…
a pleasure drinker
just a drinker of pleasures

I am the vine
you are the branches
are the supposed words you said
did you comprehend
understand
how the fruit of the vine
when fermented –
goes straight to your head?

I suspect you did
I suspect you knew
as you slumped on the party floor
Mary Magdelene’s head on your lap
as she dreamed and hoped of more

but we have turned one quick fire quip
into a way of settling scores
only happy when shouting “we’re the best!”
branches of other lives
– not ours
pruned and strewn across the floor

so as I drink another glass
shortening my life’s brief span
I take solace in the knowledge
that wine flows freely in the promised land.

Longshanks

longshanks stood here
or so I’m told
dropping buttons on a plate
currying divine favour
feeding on holy bread
sacramentally blessed

now I stand here
priest of this fold
the hill of the worm plainly in my sight
past visions looming large
resounding inside my head
of sword,
of steel,
of blood,
of death.

this church stands here
or so I’m told
linking his past
with my present
all virtue and vice
all virtue and vice

the walls drip with prayer
or so I’m told
prayers for what?
a field of dead scots?
wallace in a grave?
praises to an english god?

weathered and worn
or so i’m told
by thousand year fight with elemental forces
shearing stone from stone
layer by layer
strip by strip
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
back to the bone

like tears the stone dust falls
tears for the guilt of silence
tears for the plaintive wind of a thousand cries unheard and unanswered
tears from the stones that did not sing
that shouted no protest in the face of priests and kings
drunk on power
on a wrathful god
on a divine right to rule

longshanks stood here
or so I’m told
girding his loins
for the march ahead
praying for deliverance
praying for blood
sacramentally blessed

such deathly piety –
I feel it on the wind even now
infused within these walls that I touch – perhaps
a cold waiting to be caught
turning sensible souls into preachers of hate

graves mark the victims
their silence speaks
humans all
spread-eagled
cross-like
dead
hung on the nails of battlefields blessed with prayer

longshanks stood here
or so I’m told
I can stand no more

as one bishop said to another

as one homophobic bishop said to another
it’s the truth we hate
prejudice we must defend at all costs
human life means nothing
death is nothing at all
after all

as one homophobic bishop said to another
crazy crazy world
crazy crazy times
god has thrown the chairs into the fireplace
we cannot let him
we must stop him

as one homophobic bishop said to another
all is lost
we cannot exist
if we cannot condemn
it’s the end of the world as we know it
and we don’t feel fine.

as one homophobic bishop said to another
let’s talk about other things
my dreams disturb me
and where the spirit leads
I will not follow
I cannot blow where it wills

as one homophobic bishop said to another
it was so much simpler when we were feared
and god was restrained
in chains of our making
people cowered before us
their entrails on the floor

as one homophobic bishop said to another
real reformation has begun
unless we stop it
the love of God will win
open your bible
leviticus will do

There’ll be ice-cream….

there’ll be ice-cream in the kingdom of god
the angels got thrown out
with their tuneless harps
singing in parts –
does god need such noise about?

there’ll be ice-cream in the kingdom of god
the angels ask to re-skill
“we’ll put down our halos
take up italiano
make rum ‘n’ raisin for the soul”

does god need all that praise and thanksgiving?
big-heads and dictators demand that…
ice-cream
a sign for the living
is where god’s kingdom is at.

– so in the ice-cream cafe
what dare I choose?
do I play safe with flavour?
what is there to loose
if I stretch my tongue tentatively around new knowledge?
if I let my taste buds off their noose?
if I celebrate the creative?
if I understand what I have understood
is not truth
but a jumped up lack of imagination
afraid of an ice-cream scoop?

but whilst in deliberation
I see a big smile on your face
unfreezing my moribund spiritual eye
it lets in light –
light I might have missed at Leighton Moss

so its god I see in your buggy
tasting that first ice-cream
joyfully plastered over the hair
blobbed-slobbed on the nose
slip-dripping down hands,
stuck to the face
the vanilla of life

there’ll be ice-cream in the kingdom of god
a real cosmopolitan place
no haughty holiness
no worthless worthiness
no faux friend-ness
no abundant life pretensions……

and then when you burst out laughing
the world starts laughing too
the passers by
have joy in their eyes
the kingdom has come
ice-cream has won
and for god that great ice-cream seller
dreams really do come true.

Adrian Henri

electric socks…..
that’s what I remember
bright pink I think

I was ballast
not in a bad way
sometimes silence is the best conversation
sat in Angus’ post-card clad room

beat poet –
the mersey sound –
that’s what you were
opening the souls of the young
to the rhythm sound of words
and the talking toxteth blues

what I have now
is your signature
inside a penny arcade
– Cheltenham, Nov84
but I’m no gleaner of thoughts
from pen and black ink
staring at me from the page

you’d come to read poetry
I’d come to fill the room
vaguely aware of who you might be
annoyed at my ignorance
determinedly mute
a quiet soul
of the meet and greet delegation

then you were off
taken on a tour
of liquid haunts
before wakening our minds
to pictures painted
with different coloured words
to mourning for something that was never there
in your penny arcade

electric socks…..
that’s what I remember
bright green I think…….

Woman at the Well

he spoke in riddles
but explained nothing

stilted
like cold water thrown at your face
was our conversation

Did he always speak like that?
Was he really so rude?

the ripples of passing time
make the memory faint

But for a moment
we stood before him
Intrigued –
we put away our knives – wondering
united in the uncertainty
of what we might have found.

(reflection on Jesus’ meeting with the woman at the well in John 4)

Shall we talk about the new Pope?

No…… although the insinuations about what he might have or might not have been doing during the years of Argentina’s military junta should come as no surprise to avid readers of Latin and Central American writers…

In Vargas Llosa’s “Feast of the Goat” for instance the Catholic Church colludes with the dictatorship Rafael Trujillo in the Dominican Redpublic until the arrival of JFK..

and to those of us whoose teenage faith was saved by the reading of the works of Latin American Liberation theologians like Gutierrez, Boff and Bonino, the late seventies and early eighties were the years in which attempts were made to quash them by the appointment of ultra conservative bishops and cardinals. Many of these appointments were made by a certain John Paul II! Lest we forget Boff advocated the ordination of women in “Ecclesiogenesis” way back in the mid seventies.

But lets not talk about that, lets talk instead about the greatest soul duo of all time… the dynamic duo, Sam and Dave and also the band who backed them who happened to be one of the first mixed race groups….. Booker T and the MGs!

It may be in black and white and performed to a rather restrained looking and predominatnly white European audience, but their rendition of “Hold on I’m coming” on the Stax Tour is truly astounding(I’ve got it on the Otis Redding Respect Live 1967 DVD)! If only I could shake like that! And the faces that Donald “Duck” Dunn pulls whilst playing the bass are a picture! A bit like all those French arrivals at the enemy up the road in Newcastle, you have to say the Stax tour probably did a whole lot more for transforming race relations than the church did in many parts of the world. Proof for me that God uses anyone irrespective of their beliefs to bring in the kingdom, becasue if he relied only on Popes we would still be in the dark ages and as far away from the kingdom as ever!

A Little bit of Soul…..

Image

I can remember being deeply disappointed at the 150th anniversary of the Oxford Movement. A series of books was published to mark the occasion – I was foolish enough to buy one – and they were turgid and unimaginative in the extreme….a symbol, or so it seemed at the time, of everything that was going wrong with the catholic side of the Church of England. And yet this stasis in catholic thought shouldn’t have come as a surprise for whilst the outlook of Keeble and Newmann owed a little something to the romantic movement at their heart they were both simply re-actionaries afraid of the future and anxious to preserve the status-quo. (A deliberate generalisation here just to rile you). The Oxford Movement may have developed very beautiful liturgies that provided colour and mystery in the East End of London but they still beleived along with Mrs. C. F. Alexander that God had made us high and lowly each one in his state.

And yet we could do with a little bit of catholic soul now, in a Church of England that is increasingly as bland and turgid as those books of 20 years ago. It is no accident that people are increasingly developing their own spiritualities outside of the church with the re-emergence of wayside shrines minus the explicit Christian imagery and the use of pop muisc and poems at funerals that better reflect the mystery of life than most modern hymns ever do.

A little bit of soul would lead to a humbler church…a little bit of soul would lead to a more reflective church that would know when to bite its tongue rather than mouthing off at every opportunity. A little bit of soul is James Jones and the Hillsborough enquiry and not some ranting Scottish Cardinal. A little bit of soul recognises why so many struggle with any kind of faith at all and does not blame them for it.

Food Processors are Great……

I hope that writing this blog whilst listening to that old classic “Modern Life is Rubbish” on the headphones will produce something more cogent than the last offering which on reading back looks awful. I could say the same when I look back at some of the sermons that I preached back in the day as a curate in Birstall some twenty years ago!

I suspect, however, that the urge to break out into some kind of middle aged dancing might get the better of me and there will be no noticeable improvement….but not to worry as no one has been duped into reading any of this yet so it is all still purely thereaputic……which is all well and good….. Air cushioned soles…she don’t mind..I want to stay this way for ever…blue jeans….Good to see DMs making yet another comeback, I have worn them for years….best boots money can buy, but I digress…..

As I was trying to say, very badly, the last time there is a tendency in some recent Christian thinking to paint such a black picture of the world that we fail to see when God is using “the world” to call the church to repent and re-discover what Gospel values actually are. I often think that in the future church historians will heavily criticize the Christians of today and of the past one hundred years. It will be seen as a new dark age in Christian history. One of the few bright spots in this dark age will be Archbishop William Temple who bucked the trend along with a few others in helping to set up the Welfare State. But whether it be votes for women, ecology, animal welfare, equal rights for all, future historians will consistantley tell of a Church that was always on the wrong side, in fact not just the wrong side, but an evil side. One of the reasons that they will identify for this will be the elevation of the Bible into a place way above its station. For as John’s Gospel reminds us it is Jesus who is the Word of God and not the Bible which is a library of books that should be read through his glasses….after all isn’t this what the early church eventually did when they decided that the Gospel was for the Gentiles as well? Isn’t this what the disciples on the way to Emmaus were doing when they walked with the risen Jesus? Had they just been reading it literally as so many are inclined to do, they would never have recognised Jesus at all.