Religion

Just thinking about a saying I came up with a few years age: "Every religion (including mine) has a spiritual core, clothed in cultural garb, and crusted with political garbage." Stan Sanford, 1994

Valentine’s Day 2012

Flowers of various colors and kinds

Speak of an equal variety of love’s expressions;

Yet, all flowers fade, wither, and die,

As, too often, love’s passions wane.

Candies speak of love that is sweet,

Tantalizing the tongue with exotic pleasures;

But tastes change, the desired becoming offensive,

As love, overly protested, questions its sincerity.

Beautiful jewelry and delicate lingerie

Quicken the pulse and brighten the eyes

Of the one receiving them;

Too soon, however, they come to reside

In the darkness of some drawer,

Infrequently, if ever, venturing forth;

Too soon, too, love retreats

To the shadows of the heart,

Failing to temper tongue or hand

In the course of day to day pursuits.

Today, in the place of these,

I simply renew my pledge to you

To listen and to learn, to lift and to wait,

To patiently persevere, to share and to forgive,

And to be the one that God

Appointed me to be in your life.

©Stan Sanford 2012

Dancing Dave

He has skin as dark as a southern night;
Like a summer cloud, his hair is white;
With a soiled white shirt, white pants, and gloves,
He speaks in riddles of the things he loves.
With a distant look in his tired eyes,
He’ll pause on his way with childlike surprise,
If you should happen to meet him by chance,
Respecting his choice, you should ask him to dance.
He may bum a smoke or ask for a dime;
If you don’t give them, he’ll still take the time
For a step or two, a mem’ry to save,
If you have the luck to meet Dancing Dave.

One of those guys that took less than he gave,
A dear child of God is ole Dancing Dave

©2012,

Stan Sanford

I AM There

When light broke into nothing

With a Bang that no ear heard

When Order sprang from Chaos

With the speaking of a Word

I AM there

When a single cell of Life

Oozed from a primal sea

And evolved in adaptations

To all life that came to be

I AM there

In the sunrise on the mountains

In the sunset on the sea

In the pain and joy of childbirth

In the prison—with the free

I AM there

When nail or phallus pierces

The flesh of innocence

And fire burns the children

In war’s heartless offence

I AM there

When sun warms the breast of earth

And life within it swells

When upon a bloody cross

Heaven enters hell

I AM there

In your deepest loneliness

Of homelessness and cold

Or in the silks of opulence

A voice of silence in your soul

I AM there

©Stan Sanford, 2012

Reality?

Were they only pictures,

The things I thought I saw?

Was it only randomness

Or universal law.

As former thoughts return to mind,

Were they mere fantasy,

Or did they form the essence

Of reality?

©Stan Sanford, 2012

Beyond and an Afterthought

Beyond

In my mind I travel

To places far away

To worlds beyond the universe

Where other being play

Very different from me

Yet very much the same

Created in One Image

Worshipping One Name

Mind beyond reality

Something greater still

The “More” of James

The “God” of saints

The all inclusive Will

The prophet and the seer

Behold what You behold

And pass to us the pictures

In stories they have told

I settle down inside of me

And step outside of time

My mind enters into yours

Beyond all space and clime

Through the worlds I travel

Not sure of what I see

In a moment yet beyond

Time and eternity

The essence of Your Being

With which all beings bond

Lies within the smallest thing

Yet always beyond

Afterthought

The poet and the seer

And the scientist

Are seeking understanding

Of all that may exist

The center of the universe

And its boundary

A point to be in time and space

And in infinity

What lies beyond the universe

Where boundaries cease to be

One steps into the mind of God

To Subjectivity

©Stan Sanford, 2012

Angry Birds

Angry Birds, Angry Birds

Fly through the air

Destroy your target

That’s waiting out there.

Expressing your anger

From the slingshot fly,

And cute smiling piggies

Surely will die.

If I am skillful,

Anyone can guess,

I can score more points

Shooting par or less.

What am I learning,

As I join the craze,

Joining the young crowd,

And filling our days

Killing the peaceful

In a rundown maze?

The art of destruction,

Learning new ways

To do it quicker,

More cost effective,

Piling up my wealth?

That’s my elective!

What are we teaching

With video games

To our sweet children?

That there is no shame

In acts of violence

And wiping out all

Who stand in our way,

As that were our call?

What can I say?

It’s just a release?

For they have hooked me—

This man of peace!

©Stan Sanford, 2012