Lamar Howell's Weblog

God, I’m not sick-enough of being mediocre

Mildly tired of eating like an ogre

Wee-bit weary of being green and uncouth

Nailing up -isms and warm half-truths

Getting nauseated by drinking swamp water

Berating myself for not thinking what I ought’a.

Lately Lord,

Prayer has been like holding my breath

underwater then I’m gasping,

coming up grateful for nothingness.

It’s the yellow light at an intersection

A pause for light-speed inner reflection

Or a slam on the brakes, then a hesitation.

It’s the rich smell of tobacco drying in a barn

But once smoked, I choke for trying forewarned.

Prayer is coffee beans fresh from the ground

But then comes the roasting and that grinding sound!

It’s the soap bubbles blown with childish glee

Which burst –  pptt!  atmospherically.

One day, though, I’ll hold my breath more,

set up a tent under a semiphore

drink Kopi Luwak coffee and laugh at what’s in it

Then blow soap bubbles a mile a minute.

Give up?

Shrek no!

Amen.