An Intolerable Sound

Feel, how softly down the throat
this morsel with its sugar-coat
slithers! It’s like an antidote
to all the things the apostles wrote.

Their words are foul, a ringing sound,
but here’s a cure our team has found
– a world of doctrines, gathered round –
a constant dose til their words are drowned.

OUT with the droning of ancient apostles!
What we hanker for is something novel:
something mystical, Pentecostal,
stories with vigour and moral muscle!

And – ah – a teaching to cure the itch
in our ears and feed the dreams of the rich.
It’s a pleasing plan without a hitch,
a passionate, pragmatic religious pitch.

So come, let’s lie where the sea wave beats
to swash our ears clean of bleats.
We’ll feed on low-fat milk, and sweets,
all sorts of soothing pills and treats.

We’ll share with all who wander there
in easy, light, permissive air
where no one judges, and none forbear
and life could lead us anywhere.

This is freedom – feel its chains!
This is where the individual reigns
where no supposéd truth constrains
our steering hearts and creative brains.

We’ve come so far.

Recall those trapped
in squirming seats as preachers yapped?
Where are they now? More tightly wrapped
in the grasp of God! How very apt.

Randburg Harriers Road Race

The road rose up to meet…
(Is that a blessing at all?)
Well, on the mountain, our feet
did up from heaven haul.

The syrupy hills kept turning,
the tar did backwards tug
but, hearts and lungs burning,
we onward, upward dug.

Breathlessly we lamented
’til, after a lengthy while,
the harrying road relented
for a single treacherous mile.

Then up it loomed again!
And hot the sun did shine.
Our minds and legs did strain
to picture the finish line.

Spurred on, we did ascend,
the mountain lost its fire,
we fought it to the end
and won the runner’s desire.

And now with slopes behind
knowing they did not smother
our hopes, we are inclined
to sign up for another.