Clouds of New Bastards
Where do you find yourself
In the chapters of exodus?
Are you nomadic, disrespectful, or
Whiny.
Can you shake the dust off your
Boots and begin again. Can you say
“No” once more to your deliverer
And rebel against conformity. You say
And think important things
But as complex as your life is,
With its schedules, appointments,
And working-vacations, your adios
Is all that God needs to make yours
His way Home.
-jim hill (3-27-09)
Friday, March 27, 2009
Monkey Room
In A Monkey Room
The mother monkey
Signed to me
A slashing motion
To her throat
I’m not a naturalist
So I let her do it
I thought every species
Enjoy eating their young
Who am I to complain
To an ungrateful nation
Of hairy apes.
-jim hill (3-27-09)
The mother monkey
Signed to me
A slashing motion
To her throat
I’m not a naturalist
So I let her do it
I thought every species
Enjoy eating their young
Who am I to complain
To an ungrateful nation
Of hairy apes.
-jim hill (3-27-09)
Thursday, March 5, 2009
she is who she was
SHE IS WHO SHE WAS
I looked
At this stain (at this shadow)
And thought I saw you
Staring up at me.
I’ve taken the easy way of sentiment
And turned it into an experience
Of reflection. No one knows if
I think; in fact some believe I never did.
If you were my father, you could use your right
To ignore
Or to misunderstand.
If you were my mother
You would use your time
To place me in a role
That was not befitting or proper
For someone so close to you.
In these ways I’ve come to understand
That you have reluctantly embodied
Those I knew and those I’ve not met.
I respect what you are and where you’ve chosen
To spend your life
And with whom you’ve chosen to spend it with.
You are not an empty vessel and not empty headed
I do, however, think you are not utilizing your full potential
As you vacillate back and forth between youth and maturity
Your hands and neck will betray your mental age and some will
See you as the Tinker Bell who never grew up
But never found it in herself to re-unite
With a man
Once known as Peter Pan.
-jim hill (1-20-09)
I looked
At this stain (at this shadow)
And thought I saw you
Staring up at me.
I’ve taken the easy way of sentiment
And turned it into an experience
Of reflection. No one knows if
I think; in fact some believe I never did.
If you were my father, you could use your right
To ignore
Or to misunderstand.
If you were my mother
You would use your time
To place me in a role
That was not befitting or proper
For someone so close to you.
In these ways I’ve come to understand
That you have reluctantly embodied
Those I knew and those I’ve not met.
I respect what you are and where you’ve chosen
To spend your life
And with whom you’ve chosen to spend it with.
You are not an empty vessel and not empty headed
I do, however, think you are not utilizing your full potential
As you vacillate back and forth between youth and maturity
Your hands and neck will betray your mental age and some will
See you as the Tinker Bell who never grew up
But never found it in herself to re-unite
With a man
Once known as Peter Pan.
-jim hill (1-20-09)
untitled
The New Judge of it All
You can’t bang the gavel
When your hands are gone
Can’t condemn
The retail merchant
Of thievery
From his own corporation
We all steal
We all corrupt
And are corrupted
We are our files’ own
Worst enemas
-jim hill (3-5-09)
You can’t bang the gavel
When your hands are gone
Can’t condemn
The retail merchant
Of thievery
From his own corporation
We all steal
We all corrupt
And are corrupted
We are our files’ own
Worst enemas
-jim hill (3-5-09)
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