the curling smoke
from warming fires
rise into the slate
gray sky of the
Beqaa Valley

sheaves of
rising prayers
expire in twisted plumes
dissipating into the
gloom of an ever
looming winter
overcast

refugees from
the Arab Spring's
uncivil wars
gather for warmth
around waning embers,
smoldering in the underbelly
of the lowliest bottom of rusted
steel drums, tended
with scavenged debris
some thought better
suited to fortify the
faltering hovels of
last resort

the fires
join us in
communal rings
straining the
tenuous links of
brotherhood, the
politics of men
assiduously tear
asunder

we count ourselves
among the fortunate,
blessed exiles recused
from the acrimony
of desecrated cities,
welcoming the
residencies of
bewailing lullabies
of colic infants, the
searing hunger of
stunted children and the
incomprehensible babble
the elderly eloquently
speak in tongues
of a desperate
exasperation

our nagging impotence
swaddle us in ambivalent
inabilities to master circumstances
profanely denigrating our humanity

privation is
our daily bread
the bitter manna
feasting on the
animosity the banquet
of rancor generously
prepares for
peace starved
pilgrims

in these
refugee camps
the cold cuts deeper
hunger pangs
grow sharper

our blighted dignity,
vanished livelihoods,
and the presence of
recently interred
loved ones trudge
through our mean
encampment as
fully enfranchised
citizens in our
distressed
kingdom

what was lost can
never be recovered
our homeland leveled
yet doors still stand open
silently pleading all
to cross a new
threshold

the full restoration
of our hope,
the reconstitution
of our flagging
humanity, the
spark of the
holy spirit
willfully uniting us
in the salvation
of reconciliation
is nigh

we are
the divine children
stoking the embers
tending the fire
that light pathways
through the cold
darkness of a
broken world

Oh come
Emmanuel,
dwell among us
Oh come
Emmanuel
ransom once
again the
poor captives
of Israel….

Selah

Music Selection:
L'Accorche-Choeur, Ensemble vocal Fribourg
Veni Veni Emmanuel

Everywhere
Christmas
2013
jbm

Don't Drink The Kool-Aid

Don't drink the Kool-Aid
That's a phrase you'll sometimes hear
It means don't believe every word
And don't live your life in fear

Don't walk around with blinders
Try to see the other side
You can listen to what others say
But make up your own mind

You do not have to follow
When someone makes a stand
There are many different points of view
Each side must get a chance

Your opinion may just matter
To no one else but you
The experience of a persons life
Creates their point of view

So don't drink the Kool-Aid
You can't believe all that you hear
Dont trust someone blindly
And don't live your life in fear

Don't drink the Kool-Aid

Carl Joseph Roberts
December 2013

winter covers the earth
in a requited slumber
dropping a bleak veil
of prolonged eventides

a sparse season's
dire landscape
professes a chill
of privation, across

frost crusted furrors
crowning cold fallow fields
resting from offerings
of a past season's yield

reaping passages
to the royal realms
the mystic visions of
this twilight nexus

germinating seeds
burrowed deeply in
recurring reveries
of future harvests

our dreamscapes
of abundance, sustained
in the deepest memory of
the advent of new seasons

Music Selection:
Paul Winter Consort: Icarus

Oakland
12/21/13
jbm

By paper-lantern light

flames colour a snow crystals dance, beautifully enchanting, to

the distant sound of singing; Joyous songs of celebration, lulling all in revelry. Each note heard

in silent reverence, beneath the skeletal canopy of majestic oak spread. Where from amongst the

damp branches,wise old saucer eyes calls "Ubi? Ubi?", heralding a cacophony of wide-eyed

whispers. This afternoon, sweet twilight guides our paths as we search on ever onward journeys

unknown; Our arms collecting firewood, to fill the empty hearths of others. Unaware of the cold

hands, we are, when there's such warmth in our hearts. We toil within the stillness,  

snow falling softly,and covering the crisp ground.         From deep beneath
        
         the dazzling pure white,                                     tiny hibernating animists   

blink wide from the                            warmth of hidden

 woodland beds.                        Gently,         
   sweep the                   12 droplets
                             of ice from                 all our eyes, Sol,                   
                             as we cough        darkness                                
                     from our      lungs,                       
                       watching the sparkles     of no                                              
                      matter,  floating                  
in the  paper-
            lantern light            
       to scatter across    
this   Solstice   sky,
illuminating our fates,
as cold  snowflake hearts
twinkle like falling stars, unseen,
turning, embracing the return of the Light

time does not heal,
and love does not conquer all  
though many of you would feel
cozy and comforted by such knotted notions  
time’s honored contract with chemistry
gives us but rust, and dust  
words roll off our tongues
into the air, for unsuspecting ears  
perhaps to allay our deepest fears  
that we end as ***** of dung  
effluvia from noble maggots
the last gasped gasses  
from creatures without  
the fear of failure
or the ken of death