God Bless America Yes I Believe

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What Would Jesus Do?…

Jesus boldly proclaimed the Good News.

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Text picked from the front page of the website What Would Jesus Do? on 11 November 2011. By Lucie Shuker.

Miserere

I confess:

I have become  
a runner.

I go  
running.

I  
run.

Like a  
runner.

Which is what  
I have become.

A running  
runner.

Forgive me.

Oh Christ.

Forgive me.

From I have been murdered and replaced with a suspicious facsimile. In running shoes. Submitted by Ailsa Holland.

Slip in their veins

I started as a boy
straight from school
in nineteen fifty
and I enjoyed my
twenty five years here.

It was almost like
a home from home, really.

It was always said
that potters had
slip
in their veins
instead of blood.

That’s what we were.
We were potters.

Terry Abbotts, former Royal Doulton worker, interviewed in Ceramics: A Fragile History. The Age of Wedgwood, first broadcast 17 October 2011. Submitted by Ailsa Holland.

Beneath Us

For it is brought home to you, at least
while you are watching, that it is only
because miners sweat their guts out that
superior persons can remain superior.
You and I and the editor of the Times
Literary Sup., and the Nancy poets
and the Archbishop of Canterbury
and Comerade X, author of Marxism
for Infants–all of us really owe the
comparative decency of our lives
to poor drudges underground, blackened
to the eyes, with their throats full
of coal dust, driving their shovels forward
with arms and belly muscles of steel.

From George Orwell’s ‘The Road to Wigan Pier’ (1937) as cited on Fors Clavigera. By Marika Rose.

Brooklyn, Brooklyn

You live very self-consciously, in Brooklyn.
Do you drink juice or coffee or eat
vegetables? How do you live with yourself
and your bourgeois lifestyle choices? Have you
ever grown a plant?

You monster,
you gentrifying Brooklyn monster.

Your plant is a symbol. Punch that up
on your sushi iPhone app where you get
your food from in your new robot Brooklyn
dystopia, you invasive specie.

Do you like quirky things?

It’s people
like you who are ruining the Brooklyn
remembered by old folks who sit on stoops
and provide readily available
sound bites about the days of old.

From the article Brooklyn is cool until you start reading about it.

Slater

Habitual close-talker fogs up screen
with grub-related obfuscation.
Nation: whither Listerine?

Sarah Dempster’s review of Nigel Slater’s Simple Cooking, 16 October 2011. By Marika Rose.

You just can’t pitch behind

I had my at ‘em ball going today.
We’ve got to have fun. The catcher and I
were on the same wavelength. That’s why they pay
him x million dollars. Give the guy

some credit; he hit a good pitch. Yes. No.
You saw it … write it. You’re only as good
as your last game. I just wanted to go
as hard as I could as long as I could.

That All-Star voting is a joke. It takes
twenty-four players. I couldn’t have done it
without my teammates. With a couple breaks,
we win that game. I don’t get paid to hit.

Hey, we were due to catch a break or two.
I did my best, and that’s all I can do.

From Futility Closet: ‘In 1990, weary of repetitive interviews, Phillies pitcher Don Carman posted this list of responses on his locker. “You saw the game,” he told reporters. “Take what you need.”’

No Comment

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A spam comment from the blog SmyWord.