2 poems

Westminster Schools of Augusta

jonestown

Take me out of this Jonestown.
Where prayer requests and kool-aid
quench the same thirst

Past The Promised Land —
where a quiet sinner burns.
Bear your cross,
your crown of thorns.

Across from the Temple,
the Promised Paradise.
Leaving is sinning —
freedom, a vice

JESUS LOVES YOU!
The congregation does not.
They love the gossip,
the cheat,
the abuser,
and the drunk.

JESUS FORGIVES YOU!
The People do not.
They renounce the honest,
the lonely,
the starved,
and the sorry.

A vagabond.
An outcast.
A misfit.
A liar.

All of which I am,
all of which I’m not.

Getaway driver,
take me home
through the fires
to the streets of gold.

Take my heart,
drive out of sight —
as if it’s stolen
through every red light.
77 in a 55,
blue lights behind us.
Where does glory lie?

There is no “revolutionary act”
that you can do —
take off your Nikes,
paint me black and blue.

Plastic bag over the head,
“let’s see a smile!”
The world is ending,
please, sit- play a while.

What’s real is real,
and what’s real is not.
Take me out of this Jonestown —
or I’ll end up who I’m not

We had a few—
A few good years.
We celebrated early,
before the azalea bloomed.

The days were rushed.
Winter was warm—
I don’t remember my party
And neither do you.

If only
the nights were longer,
And the weather was cooler.
You hope the breeze lets up
To keep me near.

I am always down,
as the spring sky is blue.
For everything in bloom—
there might still be
me and you.

The heat rolls in
as time runs out.
You on my shoulder
and everything to cry about.

I can’t tell you I’ll stay.
I can’t make a promise.
I’ll hum along,
to the pressures upon us

In the summer, we would fly
down William Few
trying to hit the soft notes,
but we’d fall through…

We sing you might not miss this,
But I know that you do.
And so will I,
if I ever take root.

So, please
write me a song
a love letter or two
something honest
to keep me blue,

And I’ll hum along,
singing your tune—
the words you write
to keep me blue.