If I could travel

Beyond the Lunar bars,

Beyond the Martian gravel

And beyond the stars…

I would find a quiet spot-

To sit and gaze

To write and jot

A little about the universal maze.

 

The stars –just how and why

These twinkling little lights were placed in the sky-

To guide the ancient mariners across the ocean wide,

To satisfy the curiosity of the astronomer?

Or the pondering speculations of the philosopher

As he tries to discover the wonder of the celestial sky?

The universal maze-just how and why.

 

But I know I would grow tired-

Just to sit and gaze,

For my heart would desire to worship a being much higher

Oh, how restless I would be

For my heart was made for the Creator

Of the Universal Maze.

Weapons of War for Peace?

Is this existence…this survival- life? When man appropriates the means

To destroy their very dreams,

By seeds of wrath

Sculptured pain,

Implements of war from man’s vast domain.

“To split the atom,” they said. “A marvelous work and wonder-surely we are entering the millennium!”

And I wondered!                 And they cried:

“We need more! To deter we must deter…We must be capable of killin’ em!”

And more was ordered and more was delivered and more was never enough of

Seeds of wrath,

Sculptured pain,

Implements of war from man’s vast domain.

Will it ever cease-

This theory of weapons of war for peace?

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How many Coffins?

It was cold in the house of God,

Amidst the sobbing cries, trembling hands and blank stares.

Flowers- red, white and blue garnished the sanctuary

And a flag draped the coffin and uniformed figures saluted:

Out of respect, duty and tradition, Yet thankful it wasn’t them lying there.

It was a time of sober reverence, solemn remembrance and stifling temperance.

The man of the cloth dressed in black read the mourning epic, words of soothing consolation.

“Hero”     “No greater love than this- that a man lay down his life for his nation…”

The bronze star and the purple heart and the flag was given to the mother with assurance of a grateful people- the guns blazed in salute.

In the end, dirt covered the coffin of another fallen soldier.

What does it take…For a people to count the cost,

Of a nation on a blood trail…a death feud,   To say-“enough is enough!”

How many coffins- will it take to stir a people to stop its march to hell.

Be quick! Do not delay!        Prophesy poets!

For all is not well-       There is a putrid smell in the air!

There will be no peace-

Until the hearts of the people change and remove the leaders of this war.

 

I wonder , if you don’t mind…

How do you spend your time?

Do you ever spend the hours reading some forgotten lore…

Of kings, swords, dreams and powers,

Which cause the imagination to soar?

 

How do you spend your time?

Or do you spend your hours with TV, HBO, X-box and ninendo?

 

How do you spend your time?

Do you ever-

In those precious moments that seem to flee,

Well, do you ever just sit and meditate

And question the universal reason to be?

Or do you run and flee and escape reality

 

I wonder …if you don’t mind

How do you spend your time?

How do you spend your time? Ed Kelly Jr 2012

They came…

In old wooden feed wagons on dust ridden dirt roads,

Girls in pig tails wearing pretty blue bonnets,

Mamas in sack dresses,

Boys with straw hats aNd slivers of straw in their mouths,

And papas in work clothes wondering how the crops would do-

Yes, they came in troves to the old white church.

They came…

In flashy gold and silver ornamented buggies on the same dust ridden dirt roads,

Girls in curls,

And mothers in fancy fashionable silk dresses,

Boys in suits, a book under their arms and a slingshot respectfully concealed in their back pockets.

And fathers dressed in ruffles wondering if them darn dirt farmers would take their pews.

Yes, they all came in troves to the old white Church.

And the circuit rider came a few hours earlier- now waiting at the door,

Watching and wondering- if all was the same since he last came and went.

But he would greet them and smile the smile the same smile that he smiled before.

And he wondered why they came…

He’d pray and they’d sing and he’d preach.

And as he preached he looked and wondered

Wondered why nobody cared and why nobody dared to be different.

And they’d stand and he’d pray and they’d sing.

And then it was time to leave.

Oh, they’d comment so nicely. “Good sermon, rev…”     “Enjoyed it, rev.”

And all these stuck like daggers in his disillusioned heart.

But he thanked them and they went…

On old wooden feed wagons and ornamented buggies on the same dust ridden dirt roads.

And the circuit rider preacher looked, laughed and wondered –had it all been a joke?

And he left down the same dust ridden dirt road to another white Church,

Wondering why they came and they went…

And why nobody cared and nobody dared to be different.

(Written by Ed Kelly Jr. 1994 when he served as Pastor –Prairie Creek Christian Church)