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Sunday, December 28, 2014

The Burning Bush

There ain't no burning Bush
No beckoning pillar of fire
No visible alien God
going to raise us from our mire.
We are responsible instead
For everything we do
From our thoughts words and actions
comes deeds we can take pride in or rue.
Yet, among us winds do blow
some gentle and loving
some fetid and fell,
that rot and swell
Salvation walks among us
Quietly telling us what we should do
And where he goes the king of lies follows
blocking our understanding too.
Whether lies or truth we hear
is up to us my dears
So let us listen to our better voice
Because in the end it's still our choice.

A Christmas Truce

I hear echoes of Christmas Songs
Sung on the battlefield one day
when a truce in fighting happened
broken by the forces of authority.
They crossed the lines to dance and sing
And dared prosecution for treachery to do the right thing.
To their Hellish Masters and the king
It was seditious to laugh and sing.
They were supposed to fight and die
for the lord of ambition and flies.

Christopher H. Holte

Note, this is two stanzas in a longer poem composed of stanzas I've written since the 70's

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