Splitting hairs split ends
Whitened teeth hide white lies
Magnifying splinters ignores planks
Rules overrule relationships
Arguing the finer points of the law skirts the law
Nitpicking produces nitwits
Bellyaching exposes a heart condition
Carping avoids fishing
Grumbling puts off gospeling
Pointing fingers miss the point
Dotting i’s crosses t’s
Hammering the details hammers nails
Parsing verbs pierces hands
Caviling begets Calvary
A Story I Herd
This little piggy went to market;
This little piggy stayed home;
This little piggy had roast beef;
This little piggy had none;
This little piggy cried, “Wee, wee, wee!”
All the way into the foam
As the whole herd became demon-possessed,
stampeded into the sea, and drowned,
Keeping all the farmers on their toes
And their children afraid of deviled ham from then on.
Don’t think much of the story?
People often accuse Jesus of not being kosher.
Is that life
Is that radiance
Or high maintenance?
Are you snug in your setting?
Can you not handle the heat?
You are the rock that will not shout,
The stone that will not thump,
The gem that will build nothing.
You ornamental chunk of earth.
You overpriced nugget of pretension.
You gravestone hurled at sinners.
You divine prize,
Heaven’s crystallized charm
Dug from the ground,
Raised to celestial heights.
You crowning beauty.
The unedited fairy tales lacked fairy tale endings:
They did not always live happily ever after;
No birds whistled cheerful little tunes;
Children choked on the cute merchandising.
Tragedy, gore, death, The End.
Dreamland was a very grim place.
Or are these stories unpolished reality
With witches, curses, and desperate needs for deliverance—
Flights of fancies crashing into truth?
Does the fairy tell of the unfairness of life and unimaginable hope?
I hope so because we need a genuine hero.
Please, dear narrator, make it factual for us:
Give us a knight in tarnished armor;
Make us watch for the demon-fighter who comes to our rescue;
A bloody cross is far more compelling than a handsome prince.
Inspire us with mystical visions from a holy ghost;
Make us believe so we can go where we have never been;
Enchant us once upon this time and we will be snow white again.
Practical types must wake the dreamers
And make visionaries blind like them.
Realists want to choke the idealists,
While the contented have prophets condemned.
Colorless folks scoff at designers;
Barren souls trash the creators;
Pioneers pull arrows from their backs;
The old school fails innovators.
Beware of expediency you meliorists,
Lest the lilt of romantics be made quiet.
For the status quo will kill reformers
And leave zealots trampled by riots.
Still boldly persevere our votaries;
Crusaders keep fighting on.
Only you seers know our tomorrows,
You fools who envision our dawns.
Where is the rest of me?
There must be more to be.
I am living unwholly,
Like a hymn without verse three.
In the mirror all I see
Is a vampire I want to flee.
God hear my desperate plea.
Only you can set me free—
Not just for eternity;
Today I want to live joyfully.
Lord, your image is still fuzzy
But I trust you completely,
Knowing you love me totally
Though I offer me only partly.
One knows so much that he is blind
Two seek the truth hoping to find
Three are wise with their understanding combined
Six are world changers of hearts intertwined
Twelve form a committee stuck looking behind
A mob is a fanatic without a mind
A democracy confirms the sin of mankind
So we vote in the Way we are inclined