Tag Archives: religion

Haiku – NaPoWriMo #9-13

Dear Reader,

A lot has happened to me as of late: experienced a repossession, opened a show, had some mind expansion and some good growth. Life has been challenging of late and writing has not been something I was able to focus on every day, but that’s changed. Below is the account I have for the last five days, my offering for the Challenge Numbers. I have tried to maintain the traditional theme of nature in them, though my definition of “nature” may be broad.

Hope you enjoy,
-Mick

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Auditions Are…Rolling Genome…Middleground

So – I have been keeping up with the Challenge but have been super-busy and under-the-weather. Took a health day today and stayed in bed (and on my computer) working. That “time-off” was well spent in that I now have Days 28, 29, and 30 edited and formatted, just waiting for your perusal! Like in all the other posts, read the play by clicking the title. Hope you enjoy!

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God Calling

So I’m sitting on my couch trying to write “Slammed” when there’s a knock on my door. I take a gander through the peephole and see a guy that sort of looks like someone who works for my apartment complex. The guy turns out not to be from my complex, but a proselyte for a Christian organization in town who put on plays and concerts, all with, and I would expect no different, a Jesus-theme.

Now, I have spoken to the representatives of this particular organization in front of my apartment before, and every time when I refuse their fliers they get very high and mighty, and fire and brimstone-y. I try and be polite, refuse and just close the door, but they always try to make me feel bad for not believing in Jesus, and they always let me know that I’ll be going to Hell because of it, sometimes raving about such through the closed door.

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Sandwich

This play is a result of wanting to write a monologue; it can be difficult to keep an audience engaged on stage when there’s only one person to maintain focus. Sandwich is the attempt to do that, be funny and informative, with a kindly old man telling it the way he sees it; Hillel the Elder serves as my Mickey Rooney.

Here Hillel informs you of the invention of the sandwich while building one. Sometimes it just takes a simple thing, I suppose. Enjoy.

Middle

I’ve taken upon myself the 31 Plays in 31 Days Challenge and intend to post at least some of those work here for you to read, if you’d care to.

Middle” deals with the idea of structure, with two gods, Janus and Jesus discussing its’ finer points. Click that link right there for the PDF of the play. Expect a whole bunch more; hope you enjoy.

Phrase into Fisticuffs – Stream of Consciousness 09/07/2011

Back alley Jesucoatl put a prayer on a lamp post and turned a phrase into fisticuffs for the sake of a sardonic religious experience.

Hour farther made art for heathens, hollow beef for fame, come kin do run, thighs wilt for fun, for mirth does come in sevens.

Seven sibils, seven fountains, seven samurai swatting scorpions – invoking old gods with new names as though antiques polished might shine differently – Santaria staples, saints sinfully reverted to former figures as in musical chairs, swap, Pop!

Goes the weasel easel actuating four-dimensional probiotic tonic, ticking time rhyme, ravenous for the requisite nutrients: blue 42, blue 42, hut hut, tut tut –

Uncommon Pharoah, fornicating out of incest, impure bloodline rock of ages, sage and myrrh tasting sweet on a sour palate, damnable deviations make for New World Order norms.

This is sanctuary stabilized by reverting to chaos form,
this is a storm just as you start to swim to shore –
nothing easy comes to those that prosper,
elements are all the same
but you
will shine like
phosphorus.

***This probably has a lot to do with me reading The Invisibles. Thanks, Grant Morrison.***

Passover

Some bar, same state, another insobriety,
Plagued in piety of the fermentated drink inside of me,
Sans Seder, sans kosher kitchen,
Unclear of the mission or my position, my placement,
Sure the world won’t end for my religious abatement.

Or will it? Clearly caught in fission’s divisions,
A fractured prism scattering light,
Counting days to start in the night,
Six-hundred-and-thirteen strokes impossible,
Unable to truly be devout, but what’s the difference when the lofty aspirations turn to communal clout?

Cut off, odd man out in all environs,
Barely standing wholly on bending, broken pylons.