The Secret Life of Jesus #383
Aug 29 2010 Filed in: Jims Poems
The Secret Life of Jesus #383
When Jesus turned 28
(In the year 29)
He went to his 10th
High School reunion.
It felt really weird.
He had a beard by then,
And suffered through tales
Of romance and success.
Magdelene still
Had the hots for him,
And Judas seemed to have lost
A lot of money at cards.
Somebody dragged out
A yearbook, And there he was
In the class photo,
The tall one near the end
In the back row
Desperate to get out
Of Nazareth.
He was still
Living at home,
And when they asked
If they’d see him in ten years
At the next reunion,
He said “probably not.”
When Jesus turned 28
(In the year 29)
He went to his 10th
High School reunion.
It felt really weird.
He had a beard by then,
And suffered through tales
Of romance and success.
Magdelene still
Had the hots for him,
And Judas seemed to have lost
A lot of money at cards.
Somebody dragged out
A yearbook, And there he was
In the class photo,
The tall one near the end
In the back row
Desperate to get out
Of Nazareth.
He was still
Living at home,
And when they asked
If they’d see him in ten years
At the next reunion,
He said “probably not.”
The Secret Life of Jesus #688
Aug 29 2010 Filed in: Jims Poems
The Secret Life of Jesus #688
Jesus was ready
For a vacation,
So he walked across the lake,
To check out the other side.
The beach was filled
With American tourists,
Lush women with hard faces,
And men with great tans
And silver sunglasses.
They didn’t pay
A bit of attention
When He came ashore,
Which was fine with Him.
He knew he would meet them later
When the sun went down.
Jesus was ready
For a vacation,
So he walked across the lake,
To check out the other side.
The beach was filled
With American tourists,
Lush women with hard faces,
And men with great tans
And silver sunglasses.
They didn’t pay
A bit of attention
When He came ashore,
Which was fine with Him.
He knew he would meet them later
When the sun went down.
Quandary
Aug 29 2010 Filed in: Jims Poems
Quandary
What should the strong
Do with the weak?
Should they devour them?
Should they protect them?
Should they own them and use them?
And what should the weak
Do about the strong?
Should they avoid them?
Should they challenge them?
Should they conspire against them
Like the legions of Lilliput?
And what should the soul
Do for the body
And the body for the soul?
Should the body make gods
In its own image,
And should the soul
Deceive the body?
Perhaps Nietzsche was right
And all life is the will to power,
For the powerless thing
Is lifeless after all,
And a man spends his life
Scratching at doors
That promise more life
Behind them.
What should the strong
Do with the weak?
Should they devour them?
Should they protect them?
Should they own them and use them?
And what should the weak
Do about the strong?
Should they avoid them?
Should they challenge them?
Should they conspire against them
Like the legions of Lilliput?
And what should the soul
Do for the body
And the body for the soul?
Should the body make gods
In its own image,
And should the soul
Deceive the body?
Perhaps Nietzsche was right
And all life is the will to power,
For the powerless thing
Is lifeless after all,
And a man spends his life
Scratching at doors
That promise more life
Behind them.