I made the mistake of venturing to the mall.

I made the mistake

Of venturing to the mall,

The land of sales clerks

With mannequin smiles,

Where "You too can be

Beautiful, blonde, and tall"

Screams the posters at the ends

Of merchandise aisles.

Buying products to prove

Your adequateness

Is your fundamental

Constitutional right.

The American

Pursuit of happiness

Is guaranteed under

Bright florescent light.

Things to put envy

In your neighbor's eyes

Are on sale for

Thirty percent off.

The temporary joys

Of dubious buys

Draw hungry shoppers

To the feeding trough.

Star-bellied Sneetches

And plain-bellied Sneetches

Running through Sylvester McMonkey McBea's car,

Stop and learn what Dr. Zeus teaches

And be happy to be

Who you really are!

Call Me Job

What of me do they desire

That Heaven and hell should conspire

To allow the evil one

To feed me a daily dose

Of hell's eternal fire.

Is it not enough that I gave Him my heart?

Must He give it to the evil one to tear apart?

Like some twisted autopsy

Performed, while I still am alive,

By some deranged René Descartes?

I beg for assurance that my faith is not in vain.

A word from heaven would be enough to sustain

What little hope that I have left

To ride out this torturous night

And see Heaven smiling once again.

I cling to the horizon waiting for the sun

For the hour when His will for me would be done

And He would be pleased that I endured.

Thinking of Maggie

Maggie transferred to our school in the sixth grade.

She had the sweetest smile and the kindest soul. She was adored by the little kids in the neighborhood and equally loved by little furry creatures.

She wasn't the "type", that the other guys go gaga over, but, for me, her beauty was radiant.

We were friends and I can't think of anything we couldn't say to each other. Well, except for one thing... I wasn't able to openly profess my feelings to her until the ninth grade.

I had thought that it was well concealed until Maggie's brother, Willie, and I were involved in some activity together (I can't remember which). When I introduced myself to Willie, he said, "I know who you are; you and my sister are sweet on each other." I don't know how red my face turned but I felt my entire face heated up.

As it turned out, Willie wasn't the only one who knew. Evidently, it was obvious to everybody.

When I finally used those three words, Maggie, just as naturally as can be, wrapped her arms around me and held me for an eternity. I was in heaven.

It's been so many years, but my mind still takes me back to that place, when I occasionally allow it to wander.

Once there was a place where love was true,

Where love was love and nothing more,

We kept no secret to misconstrue;

We forgave without keeping score.

This place existed for one moment;

That moment existed for this place.

There, marked the end of my heart's torment.

There, I found a home in her embrace.

Boatman, take me back home again.

I'd empty my pocket for the fare.

Free me from this present time's domain

Find me the river to take me there.

A Cry from One who Wanders the City Street

Something unusual happened to me that caught me complete by surprised. A block south of the Washington Monument (the original one in Baltimore) on Charles Street, I was stopped by a homeless man who didn't want food or money. He said that since accepting Jesus as his Lord and Savior, the Lord has been providing for all his needs. All he wanted was a hug. He explained that because he has AIDS, he has not had any human touch in a very long time. But he assured me that all his sours are currently healed so I am not endangered of contracting the disease from him. As I hugged him, he broke down and started crying streams of tears. At which point, he broke off our embrace because he didn't want any of his body fluid to get on me. Suddenly, he quickly ran off. Although I constantly keep an eye out for him when I'm in that neighborhood, I never saw him again.

No longer does tomorrow exist for me,

Just the recurrence of subsequent todays,

Because hope is tomorrow's admission fee;

And mine is buried beneath a hundred clichés.

Tell me I'm more than the sum of body parts.

Tell me I'm not reduced to nothing by my sorrow.

Open your arms and share the warmth of your heart.

Rekindle my soul to see again tomorrow.

City After Midnight

Due to the unusual hours that I keep, I, often, go shopping after midnight at 24-hour a day supermarkets and drugstores. Several nights ago, during one of my late night shopping trips, I saw a sight that broke my heart. I've been thinking about it since. I finally decided write about it.

Cruel is the lonely city night

Blind to the misery of this sight.

The sparse traffic passes

But doesn't see, doesn't hear, doesn't feel

The desperation of their plight.

On the corner where McCulloh and MLK meet

Hunger hangs heavily on the faces of the street.

Two hours past midnight,

A little girl and her grandmother

Are begging for something to eat.

What does it take to make things right?

A five was all that I can spare, tonight.

As I pull away I see no tear being shed

Under the blinking traffic light.

In the Service of our King

Depart, if you seek the glories of war.

It is not what this march is for.

Commissioned we are

To serve

In the Lord's advance guard.

We march long and hard among the dead

Down this nocturnal road where evil treads,

Commissioned we are

To serve

In the Lord's advance guard.

Meals of only His wine and bread.

In remembrance of his thorn crowned head.

Commissioned we are

To serve

In the Lord's advance guard.

Charges of dragoons and snipers' fires

Laid our comrades on funeral pyres.

Commissioned we are

To serve

In the Lord's advance guard.

Howitzer fires, and shrapnel and flak

No artillery piece could turn us back.

Commissioned we are

To serve In the Lord's advance guard.

Belt, breastplate, helmet and shield

Protect us in the potter's field.

Commissioned we are

To serve

In the Lord's advance guard.

Our weapon is His Spirit's sword

The Word of God which can't be ignored.

Commissioned we are

To serve

In the Lord's advance guard.

Tempted to give chase when we pierced their flanks.

The line, we hold steady, we don't break rank

Commissioned we are

To serve

In the Lord's advance guard.

Patiently we wait for His trumpet's call

When we finally charge and take it all.

Commissioned we are

To serve

In the Lord's advance guard.

We march long and hard among the dead

Down this nocturnal road where evil treads,

Commissioned we are

To serve

In the Lord's advance guard.

Don Quixote Grows Up

Shortly after I graduated from college, I decided that I wanted to make a difference in this world. so, I moved to Baltimore, into the city, to be involved with programs for helping the economically disadvantaged.

In the passing years, I've been held up at gun point. And I've been ripped-off by people that I'm trying to help.

If I had made some kind of impact in my neighborhood, I may be willing to say that it's all worth it. However, day in and day out, nothing seems to change.

Not only have I not made an impact in my neighborhood, I'm beginning to see it impact me. I'm less patient with those I'm helping and more distrustful of anything they say. There's been days in which I started to think that they deserved to be where they are.

So, I held up the mirror and wrote the following.

I mourn the passing of my youth

As it gasps for the last breath

Of its quixotic dream.

No single self-evident truth

Survived this untimely death,

Without a trace downstream.

The promises of tomorrow

No longer have their allure

No longer fuel my hope.

Broken lives, broken hearts, and sorrow

A field of dreams with manure

Made me this misanthrope.