Aylan Kurdi…DEAD SYRIAN CHILD

Aylan Kurdi…DEAD SYRIAN CHILD

He took a little child whom he placed among them. Taking the child in his arms, he said to them, ³⁷ “Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me.”…MARK 9:36

 

HE CAME ASHORE LIKE DRIFTWOOD

LIKE JETSAM NOT NEEDED

TO LAY UPON THE SAND

NOT SLEEPING BUT DEAD

WHAT PIECE OF LAND IS WORTH THE DEATH OF A CHILD

WHAT RANK OF IMPORTANCE JUSTIFIES IT

WE PRAY FOR PEACE

PREPARE FOR WAR

WE ARE LIKE THOSE WHO GO TO A RAIN DANCE

WITHOUT AN UMBRELLA

LET THE EARTH REST GENTLY UPON HIM

FOR LIFE WAS NOT

THOSE WHO CLAMOR FOR WAR

SHOULD HOLD A CHILD’S BROKEN BODY

I WONDER IF IT WOULD MAKE A DIFFERENCE

WE THE KEEPERS OF THIS WORLD

MUST ANSWER THESE CHILDREN SOMETIME

WHEN THEY ASK

WHY

FRANK A VOLLMER

WRESTLING WITH GOD

WRESTLING     (Mark 7:23-26)

WRESTLING WITH GOD IS NOT A SIN

BUT A TIME HONORED EVENT

AS WHEN A SYROPHOENICIAN WOMAN

SAID TO JESUS

HEAL MY CHILD

HE SAID

BECAUSE SHE WAS A GENTILE

 A PAGAN

IT IS NOT RIGHT

TO TAKE THE CHILDREN'S FOOD

TO THROW IT TO THE DOGS

SHE REBUFFED HIM SAYING

EVEN THE DOGS

EAT THE CHILDREN'S

CRUMBS

YOU CAN SEE HIM SMILING

HE'D BEEN BESTED IN AN ARGUMENT

 HE REPLIED GENTLY

GO

YOUR CHILD IS HEALED

FRANK A VOLLMER

EL SHADDAI - MANY BREASTED ONE

EL SHADDAI

EL SHADDAI

EL SHADDAI

EL SHADDAI

EL SHADDAI

MANY BREASTED GOD

WITH MILK FOR ALL

AND PLENTY

EL SHADDAI

SHADDAI

WHERE WERE YOU GOD

WHEN I WAS LOST

WANDERING THE CAVERNS OF MY MIND

WHERE WERE YOU GOD

WHEN I WAS LOST

HERE

EL SHADDAI

EL SHADDAI

MANY BREASTED GOD

WITH MILK FOR ALL

AND PLENTY

EL SHADDAI

SHADDAI

HERE

FRANK A VOLLMER

GIDEON BIBLE

GIDEON BIBLE

THE WEARY TRAVELER

FOR WANT OF SOMETHING TO READ

PICKED UP THE GIDEON BIBLE

FROM THE BUREAU

IT FELL OPEN TO JOSHUA

HE READ

HE READ IT THROUGH

THEN PUT IT AWAY DISGUSTED

IT READS LIKE HITLER’S QUEST

FOR LEBENSRAUM

WITH TOTAL DESTRUCTION

OF THE PRESENT INHABITANTS

I CANT BELIEVE IN A GOD

WHO SAYS HE’S LOVE ON ONE HAND

 TOTAL DESTRUCTION ON THE OTHER

WHO WOULD FOLLOW SUCH A GOD

THE GOD WHO MADE ME

DOES NOT WANT ME TO BE CANNON FODDER

HE’D BE LIKE A POTTER

WHO MAKES A BOWL

THEN SMASHES IT ON COMPLETION

THEN CALLS IT

AN ACT OF LOVE

FRANK A VOLLMER

NOW THE DAY IS OVER

NOW THE DAY IS OVER

Now the day is over,
Night is drawing nigh,
Shadows of the evening
Steal across the sky.

THE CAMPING SEASON WAS OVER

IT WAS OUR CUSTOM

TO SING THIS HYMN

THE LAST NIGHT

Now the darkness gathers,
Stars begin to peep,
Birds, and beasts and flowers
Soon will be asleep.

THE LITTLE ONES WHO HAD FOUGHT SLEEP

WERE NOW IN THEIR SLEEPING BAGS

AFTER TELLING US

THAT PIECES OF FLAME

FROM OUR FIRE

WERE ANGELS GOING TO GOD

WHO WAS I TO DENY IT

Jesus, give the weary
Calm and sweet repose;
With Thy tenderest blessing
May mine eyelids close.

GIVE TO ALL THE DOWNTRODDEN

WHO DO NOT HAVE THE LEISURE

TO APPRECIATE THE BEAUTY OF YOU SKY

A PEACEFUL NIGHT

TO THEM AND TO ME

Grant to little children
Visions bright of Thee;
Guard the sailors tossing
On the deep, blue sea.

GRANT TO THOSE ENTRUSTED TO US

THAT THEY MIGHT GROW UPRIGHT

LIKE THE CEDARS OF LEBANON

THAT SAILORS

AND ALL THOSE TOSSING ON A SEA

MIGHT FIND A SHELTER FOR THEMSELVES  AND ME

Comfort those who suffer,
Watching late in pain;
Those who plan some evil
From their sin restrain.

GRANT PEACE TO ALL WHO SUFFER

AND THOSE WHO CARE FOR THEM

MAY GOOD CONQUER EVIL

CHANGING GOATS INTO SHEEP

Through the long night watches
May Thine angels spread
Their white wings above me,
Watching round my bed.

MAY I KNOW YOUR PRESENCE

NOW AND IN MY FINAL HOUR

WATCH OVER ME AND MINE

THROUGH THE NIGHT WATCH HOUR

When the morning wakens,
Then may I arise
Pure, and fresh, and sinless
In Thy holy eyes.

GUARD ME AS I START ANEW

CHARGING WINDMILLS WILLY NILLY

MAY I ALWAYS BE YOUR KNIGHT

MAY MY PLUME BE ALWAYS WHITE

Glory to the Father,
Glory to the Son,
And to Thee, blest Spirit,
While all ages run.

FRANK A VOLLMER

SPARROWS

SPARROWS

THERE IS A LEGEND

THAT JESUS AS A BOY

WAS PLAYING IN A PUDDLE

MAKING MUD SPARROWS

WHEN HE WAS DONE

HE CLAPPED HIS HANDS

THE SPARROWS FLEW AWAY

I THINK THAT’S THE KIND OF GOD WE WANT

WHO’LL CLAP HIS HANDS

MAKE ALL OUR SELF MADE PROBLEMS

TAKE WINGS

FORGETTING HE SAID

THE WORLD IS YOURS

MAKE YOUR SPARROWS FLY

FRANK A VOLLMER

OFFAL

OFFAL

OFFAL IS AN UGLY WORD

IT COMES FROM THAT WHICH FELL OFF

THE BUTCHER’S BLOCK

AS WASTE

TOO OFTEN

RELIGIOUS PEOPLE

WHATEVER STRIPE

SEE OTHERS

WHO DON’T BELONG

TO THEIR PARTICULAR CLUB

AS OFFAL

CHILDREN

WHO DIE EARLY

ARE DENIED HEAVEN

FOR NOT BELIEVING

OR BEING RITUALLY MARKED

DID NOT CHRIST

HANGING LIKE LAUNDRY

ON THE LINE

I HAVE COME TO MAKE SCARLET WHITE

TO MAKE DIRTY CLEAN

TO SHELTER THE HOMELESS

WHO DARES PUT A LIMIT TO MY BENEVOLENCE

WHO DARES TO TREAT

ANY OF MY PEOPLE

AS OFFAL

FRANK A VOLLMER