A Meditation -- and Clinique - for Lent

Mack Hall
mhall46184@aol. om

A Meditation

– and Clinique –

for Lent

True, true, the world – it makes no sense at all
Clinique on a corpse, well, it’s still a corpse
The People (bless them) look for a Saviour ap
Glowing in stereo from a little box
Salvation by P.I.N. number and YouTube
Satan’s scheduler – holding on Line 2
While Moloch coos on the chat-chat-chat news
And the Apostles deserve martyrdom
Because they’re an exclusive all-men’s club
A bumper-sticker shrieks “Herod Was Right!”
Our Lady is, like, wow, she’s so not cool
Let’s say funny things about the Rosary
And abstinence from demented hamsters
On Fridays because that is so grandma
Beggars blocking the car: “It’s for the children”
Beggars at Wal-Mart: “It’s for the missions”
Liars, liars, sunglasses and green vests on fire
I’m-spiritual-but-not-religious, dig?

“Man, thou art dust, and…”

                                        And O, it is true.

So carry the Ring, up into Mount Doom

Or sling your rifle; march into the mist

Or kneel among the bloated corpses, pray

To die beneath the Cross on your last day
O Seeker, Soldier, Monk, now march away
To beg for ashes, ashes of decay
And wash them in the River Lethe’s pale grey
Of blessed nothingness, in dead dismay
Until…palms, palms, we all wake up – to say,
To cry beyond the sad embalmer’s way

To be awakened past all tattered time

To gaze upon Objective Reality