Archive for the ‘Christians On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown’ Category

Yesterday’s miracle,

today’s distant memory.

The beautiful and divine

supplanted by



I was grateful,


I was,

essentially human, however,

I always want more.

A glimmer is never enough,

fallen world,

hopelessness surges,





Preacher says we’re in this world to be Kings and Priests,

not bit-part actors or mere minions,

it’s in the Word, after all,

the righteous, by Jesus, have dominion.

I want to believe.

I need to believe.

But I get no respite,

no relief from the shit of life,

people and systems screwing me over,


drowning at the bottom of the barrel.

And, yes, I can do all things through Christ Jesus,

but why does it always have to be the hard way,

for me,

every day like pushing a massive boulder up a narrow mountain trail.

So tired,

pissed off and rejected,

pissed upon and dejected.

It seems I’ve been forgotten,


A king and a priest?

Like a Romanov and Rasputin?

1916, 1917,

all semblance of propriety lost,

bludgeoned and beaten.

(No, Jesus, no…)


Fuck it!

I spit in extreme agitation,


at your lack of appreciation.

I haven’t changed.

(I’m every bit as heroic!)

It’s the complications

and shit surrounding me,


and demands,

that’s what’s changed.

And I do the best I can.


I hear my voice speaking

and realize it’s not my own,

neither the words nor the tone,

try as I might,

I have no control,

much like the tension in my face

and the wrinkles creasing,

ever increasing.

Sick and tired of being compromised.





Implicated, extradited and extricated

by external forces.

Taken away from myself.


Shaped into a me that I don’t want to be.


Preacher says you need to praise your way outta the situation, victory comes through worship, a supernatural gift from God.

Preacher says you aint got a car, then praise God you live near a bus stop.

Preacher says you lost your left hand, praise God you got a right one.

Preacher’s gotta preach no doubt,

whooping and a-hollering.

Preacher’s gotta give us a reason to hope.

But, I don’t get it:

Preacher’s logic says the more shit I’m in, the more I oughtta give praise…

Thankya, Jesus!

… But, really?

God, my Father?

Love, and hope?

In this world we have dominion?

It makes me question everything.

Praise Machine.


All the time in the world, apparently, just add heat, has been boiled down to absolutely nothing. Panic-stations!



You look in abject wonder and repulsion at the woman next door, or on the beach, lying in the sun, doing absolutely nothing. She’s not even reading, listening to music, masturbating, or browsing online. No, she’s just lying there, eyes shut, doing nothing. … How indulgent and decadent!

The end destination, the capitalist train station.

She’s doing nothing.

If she’s sleeping, is she even dreaming? She shows no evidence, no spasms like my long-dead dog.

Just lying and nothingness.

How boring.

Shit, though, she looks at peace.


Meanwhile you are chasing your tail, beset by complications and demands.

You Cross yourself and try to think better, more positively.

In this world of hollowness, decadence and disappointment.

You are a Christian on the verge of a nervous breakdown.