…it’s contained in this article…incident after incident after incident…and the links to the primary documents.
That is what real news looks like.
Tag Archives: Lies
Me and My Cat-Hair
Me and my Cat-Hair go where we want!
Well, my Cat-hair does, anyway.
I just trail frantically, pulled right along
as it wanders and pries and looks into burrows
and lays in the sun and just licks its soft paws
with no care in the world but those mice!
Sometimes it looks really cool, and just perfect!
Purring there, cooing and wanting the touch
of a hand that will smooth its sleek soft furry pelt
and some fingers so friendly with their gentle skritch
skritch skritch and then a flat palm to do obeisance.
But then there are times when my Cat-hair just hisses!
Its eyes glowing green and just brimming with daggers
and it jumps akimbo and arches its back
and it dares me, just dares me to try to address it
with anything less than a rake and a hoe
and better get ready to wrestle a she-devil
scratches for skritches and clawings for pettings!!
My Cat-hair and me are sometimes called names
and sometimes called other and sometimes called mask
and sometimes called liar and sometimes called nothing
and that’s when my Cat-hair sits silent, tail lashing
and eyes focused into the void that is lurking
inside the accusers who say they hate cats
when what they really mean is that they just hate me…
well, Cat-hair is there, and I cannot do anything
to make it dog-hair or human or cow-hair
or sheep-hair or anything else that would walk
off the Ark on that day when the floodwaters drained
and the animals rambled in freedom again.
so I guess I will just go with Cat-hair, just sitting there
being itself, just my Cat-hair and me.
In Hell’s Hollow Halls
I heard it, from the deep dark
rank with such fright
and masked in mean menace.
It woke me, from a sound sleep,
straight into stiff silent
screams bouncing off deaf night.
I listened, to the slow gait
shuffle shuffle slip late
and pondered what shade shambled there.
Then I heard, the slap of warm flesh,
bloody feet bare on stone,
cold stone worn slick and smooth
by great passing multitudes,
captives grim and without hope
bound for dungeons black and deep,
the sound of dancing holy feet
holey, bare, stepping light
stomping on a serpent’s head
as they walked down, down, down, down
over every cold hard stone
to the bottom to atone…
throwing open every door
shouting to all captive there
get you up into God’s Air!
And then the shuffle of a host
led forth from captivity
by a King in death alive
heaven inside death’s dark maw
plundering every taken treasure
sowing grace there without measure.
And I rested in this sound,
my heart echoed with each pound
on this day that He is crowned
with my past, successes, fails,
every sorrow past the pale
every shipwreck in the gale,
and I knew that at first light
I would place a tombstone bright
graven names there, writ just right
to show that I am me, not him
and that his life of sorrow grim
is laid to rest, its power dim
And in that grave I’d also place
the hateful words, a three-fold face
of judgement, lies and lack of grace…
and then tomorrow, when the stone
is rolled away with rocky moan
my forward path of grace is shown
and I will walk free without guilt
from that hovel judgment built
and live this life full, to the hilt!
I do not owe God anymore,
I do not owe you in your core,
I don’t owe 1, 2, 3, or 4
Because I am bought by that sound
of bloody feet on hell’s cold ground
So liberty in me abounds…
and thus I walk in grace
I’m free within my place
Delivered from the race.
Amen and Happy Easter tomorrow.
Charissa's Grace Notes 
You must be logged in to post a comment.