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emmaline Apr 2016
Kurt Queller uses narrative criticism to analyze Mark 3:1-6, the healing miracle story in the gospel of Mark.  Queller’s narrative criticism includes “echoes of the Exodus liberation narrative” , echoes of Deuteronomy’s covenant language and Sabbatical provisions , intratextual echoes in Mark , and independent echoes in the other synoptic gospels.  Queller uses these echoes to fill in the gaps he finds in the story of Jesus healing the man with the withered hand on the Sabbath.
In the beginning of his criticism, Queller lists the gaps in Mark 3:1-6’s narrative that he seeks to fill: the meaning of the withered hand, Jesus’ reason for healing on the Sabbath, His reason for considering the withered hand life-threatening, why it is a choice between good and evil, et cetera.  He begins filling these gaps by referencing intertextual echoes of Mark 3:1-6 in Exodus.  Jesus’ command to the man with the withered hand in Mark 3:5, “Stretch out your hand,” is echoed in Exodus 14:16 where God commands Moses, “stretch out your hand.” When the man with the withered hand stretches out his hand, his hand is restored. Likewise, when Moses stretches out his hand, the Reed Sea parts, resulting in the restoration of the Israelites’ freedom.
Queller’s reference to this echo in Exodus, paired with other echoes he mentions in Deuteronomy, helped me begin to understand Jesus’ insistence on healing the withered hand. Queller was able to use the echoes to fill in the gaps I previously could not fill. In Deuteronomy 15, God’s covenant requires liberal lending and debt forgiveness to the poor on the Sabbath year. God reminds the Israelites that He delivered them from Egypt in verse 15, and He claims that this is the reason for His liberal Sabbatical law. Thus, this Deuteronomic prescription for Sabbath observance is a continuation of the Exodus liberation narrative. Queller mentions these echoes in Exodus and Deuteronomy to draw a larger narrative framework for understanding Mark’s controversial healing story.
In my initial reading, I recognized that a withered hand is not necessarily a matter of life and death. Like Queller, this was a gap that I initially set out to fill. However, I was unable to fill this gap in a way that completely satisfied my confusion on the matter. Queller’s larger narrative framework for this passage led me to a better understanding of why Jesus considered the withered hand worthy to heal on the Sabbath.
According to Queller’s filling of the gaps, the withered hand is an affliction that can be compared to the Israelites’ enslavement in Egypt. The withered hand also embodies the economic predicament of the poor, who remain enslaved to their debt to the rich.  Such enslavement could be a death sentence, which is why the Sabbath requires the liberation of slaves and debt forgiveness of the poor. It seems plausible to me that a withered hand could cause a man to be enslaved and/or perpetually poor. This line of reasoning, provided by Queller’s larger narrative framework, allowed me to truly see how the Sabbath could require Jesus’ healing of the withered hand.
Another gap Queller and I similarly set out to fill is the question of what constitutes as doing good and what constitutes as doing evil on the Sabbath. This gap also arises from Mark 3:4, in which Jesus asks, “Which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to ****?” (Mark 3:4 NIV). In his analysis of this particular part of this particular verse, Queller points out a small important detail that I originally missed. Mark 3:4 does not set the frame for a passive, inner choice between good and evil.  The literal wording says, “to do good or to do evil.” The choice between good and evil on the Sabbath thereby requires action.
While recognizing that required action is problematic for the restful nature of the Sabbath, Queller supports his assertion by referencing Deuteronomy 30. Deuteronomy 30’s prescription for obedience of the Sabbath repeats the active command, “do it.”  Queller illustrates the parallelism between Mark and Deuteronomy by placing Deuteronomy 30:14 and Mark 3:4-5 in a figure side-by-side.  Deuteronomy 30:14 says, “The word is very near to you, in your mouth, and in your heart, and in your hands, to do it.” With this commandment as the framework, Mark 3:4-5 spells out the Pharisees’ failure to do good; It says, “But they were silent . . . grieved at their hardness of heart, he said to the man: ‘Stretch out your hand.’ And he stretched it out.”
From this, Queller concludes, “The ‘word’ to be done is already ‘in [their] mouth’ – but they refuse to say anything in response; it is ‘in [their] heart’ – but their heart is hardened against it. It is ‘in [their] hands, to do it’ – but as Jesus turns again to address the man, our attention is directed back to an inert hand, that, in its current withered state, seems unlikely to do anything.”  From this I am now able to conclude that which constitutes as doing “good” on the Sabbath is acting on the word. The word is completely accessible to us, and we must use our mouths, hearts, and hands to act upon it.
This gap of good and evil action that Queller helps fill also provides further evidence for the necessity of Jesus’ healing of the withered hand. Since the hands are required to carry out good action in obedience of the covenant, the withered hand is an affliction that can breach said covenant. Queller asserts that the withered hand symbolizes “the tangible embodiment of [the Pharisees] unwillingness, despite the ‘nearness’ of the word, to do it.”  Jesus, by necessity, must heal this affliction to show the Pharisees how to act according to the law of the Sabbath; “The stretching out of the hand then becomes a ‘witness against’ those who have chosen to forgo or even prohibit action because of exclusively sacral concerns.”  Without the preceding narrative frame of Deuteronomy, such significance of the withered hand for the Sabbath covenant was impossible for me to comprehend.
Though Queller is certainly helpful in providing evidence that enables understanding of the withered hand’s significance, there are parts of his criticism that I find contradictory and unhelpful. This occurs when he references echoes in Exodus and Deuteronomy to provide a framework for understanding the Pharisees’ silence in Mark 3:4 and hardness of hearts in Mark 3:5. He first relates the Pharisees’ hardened heart in response to Jesus’ plea in Mark to the Pharaoh’s hardened heart in response to Moses’ numerous pleas in Exodus. In my concordance work, I also made this connection. However, Queller and I differ in the conclusions we draw from this observation.
Queller draws from Deuteronomy to provide framework in conjunction with Exodus for understanding Mark’s interpretation of the Sabbatical law. He references Deuteronomy 29:19, which warns against thinking one can receive the blessings of the covenant while breaching it in the inner wanderings of the heart. This passive infidelity of the covenant brings God’s curse to the innocent as well as the guilty. Queller uses this context to explain why his literal translation says Jesus “co-aggrieved”  with the Pharisees because of their silence and hard hearts. The Pharisees’ passive, inner breach of the covenant invoked God’s curse on them, as well as the innocent Jesus, according to Queller.  
When I analyzed Jesus’ reaction to the hard hearts of the Pharisees in comparison to God’s reaction to that of the Pharaoh, I realized that the same Greek word was used to describe Jesus’ anger and God’s wrath. However, the consequences of Jesus’ anger and God’s wrath do not relate as clearly as Queller would lead one to believe. As a result of the Pharaoh’s hard heart, God’s wrath leads to the Pharaoh’s ultimate demise. Jesus’ resulting anger from the Pharisees’ hard hearts, on the other hand, catalyzes his decision to heal the withered hand. This action ultimately leads to Jesus’ destruction alone. Jesus, the innocent character, does not fall to the mutual destruction of the Pharisees, per Queller’s argument. I see no destruction of the Pharisees at all. Instead, Jesus restores God’s blessing of the guilty by becoming the recipient of God’s wrath in their place.
This conclusion, though differing from Queller, is consistent with his interpretation of the withered hand. Queller writes, “The withered hand embodies covenant curses invoked against those refusing to ‘open [their] hands’ in liberal lending, instead killing the poor by freezing credit in view of an impending sabbatical debt amnesty” . If the withered hand embodies God’s curse against the Pharisees, then Jesus revokes this curse when he cures the withered hand. Furthermore, the larger narrative framework of Mark’s gospel echoes this conclusion. Jesus’ crucifixion ultimately pays the debt of sinners and liberates them from God’s wrath.
Kurt Queller’s narrative criticism uses intertextuality, a narrative tool that “evokes resonances of the earlier text beyond those explicitly cited”  and “requires the reader to recover unstated or suppressed correspondences between the two texts.”  Such intertextual echoes he references from Deuteronomy and Exodus provide a larger background for interpreting Mark’s healing controversy. This granted me the ability to fill many gaps in the narrative that I was unable to fill prior to reading Queller’s criticism. In a footnote, he explains that his “metalepsis” uses such intertextual echoes for analysis, and, “In narrative, the resultant new figuration operates at what Robert M. Fowler calls the ‘discourse level.’ Metaleptic signification is thus transacted between an implied narrator and an implied audience – as it were, behind the backs of the narrative’s ‘story-level’ participants.”
The intertextual and metaleptic tools that Queller uses for his narrative criticism have proven to be very insightful and helpful for my understanding Mark 3:1-6 in an entirely new way. Even as I disagree with Queller on certain parts of his argument, these points of disagreement pushed me to deepen my own individual reading of the text. In comparing my argument to Queller’s, I realized just how far my initial interpretation was able to go. This narrative criticism answered a lot of my questions and filled many gaps. However, most of my conclusions about the implications and ultimate consequences of the text remain unshaken.  
Bibliography
Queller, Kurt. “Stretch Out Your Hand!” Echo and Metalepsis in Mark’s Sabbath Healing Controversy. Journal of Biblical Literature 129, no. 4 (2010): 737-58.
This is a narrative criticism in conversation with Kurt Queller's criticism. The in-text footnotes didn't transfer to this website but all quotes are referencing his work, which is cited at the end.
Julian Aug 2015
The haystack is the needle and the iceberg is compact
Scions of attrition tremble before the contract
Jaundiced world-weary tears lament the frailty of days and the evanescence of years
Senescence a cruel destruction, distracting garish comfort escorting the fears
Displaced and forlorn love beckons a second chance
Itinerant hopes know no commitment to simple embezzled parlance
Of dice and kin, nepotism’s high-roller antics are the linchpin
Frittered patience staking its bets on internecine dynamics of skin
Affirmative traction of disenfranchised hopes rests on fallow seasons
Traduced mirage tantalizes until the activation of regaled treasons
Shock wed with dismay appoints the tutelage of prestidigitation
Juggled triage aborts an unborn reason and anoints intimidation
Aliens flummox the borders to enlist a new world disorder
Trailblazers succumb to lawlessness and for every dollar gained we lose a quarter
Chaos checkmates as power rests from decrepit hands foisting the meretricious brand
Cattle scorched and sheep scattered as the broken hourglass can no longer count sand
Time toppled serenaded by applause canned
Toppled pyramids blind the eye of providence in the hour of unheralded prominence
The terror of history unfurls the efflorescence of piracy as ghosts work to subvert the invisible hand
Next dictums emerge that say supply on command, and entropy desecrates the land
Phone home to arm the putsch, clone home for aliens we push
Revisionism subverts the instruction of years and empowers the apotheosis of fear and the fourth ***** of George W. Bush
Dynasties envy the anonymity of a bald-eagle cabal of skinhead guffaw
Irascible genocide cavorts under the premise of shock and awe
The lullaby of morons is flinching assent to the supremacy of the unelected and unassailable tyrants
Discarding covenants on the principle of principality and counting on every knight to become errant
Pyrrhic victory of the perverted cross corrals the flock
Openly announced secrets enable the aliens to dock
At the port they are greeted as the victors and granted not only amnesty but indemnity
They brandish the unprecedented concept of an enumerated infinity
To amuse the zero-sum victory they author a new history of utilitarianism dethroning deontology
To the future readers they make contrite apologies
But when the races of men are annihilated by the evil Zen boasting of its utilitarian ken
The rubble of time cannot ascertain exactly how or when
But on the dreaded hour the virus will conspire to elect the most reproachable power
When panic reaches crescendo all the sugar in the world cannot but help to taste anything but sour
Abort the tyrannical machine no matter how convincingly it preens
No matter how much bunkum elevates the enchanting prevarication while concealing the affairs behind the scenes
Voting for balkanized splinters designed to weather the winter sustains the monopoly of sophistry
Ballyhoo saturates the airwaves and suddenly catcalling becomes gallantry
Tune out the pulpit, divest the culprit and impugn systemic venality
Dismantle the verisimilitude of shadows and hoist a giant mirror to reflect stark realities
Cue the curtains fall, the specters grow tall, and the clout is daunted by establishment doubt
The skeletonized truth severs the root but the behemoth armed to the teeth wages a bout
Cartels conspire with arms and fire and resurrect stodgy tenets to prowl like an army of vampires
To feed a fatuous superstition and to empower a censorship of convenience to enthrone a dark empire
Cunning preponderance enlists divisive shills to let the ghastly thriller exact its thrills
Occult obscurantism funds the vulnerable and tramples over the outspoken to actuate its will
Hopes dashed, stocks crashed and strife abundant
Generational dissonance revokes the incumbents
Chapter one of this unsung war come and gone
Stay tuned for the next addendum to see what is lost and who has won.
Lendon Partain Mar 2013
I need to **** my own brains out.
**** the inside of my thigh
/
If self harm existed,
I'd be the definition. Even as a child.
Epitome.
I was the art of chaos.
Reviled taste in the mouth of structure of humanity.
In the eyes of hurricanes,
death emits it's life from my heart chasm,
a dark laceration that continually deprecates the vision of self and image.

When one revokes such practices,
when one covers such motive to make others happy,
destruction of the dreamer will ensue.
Beyond all of the folly in these steps
We continue this dance macabre in order to destroy the civilized that we see in and around us.
Please take this.
Please ingest it into your ears, and masticate it in the gears teeth of your brain.
Hold heart to hand.
Take a breath.
Hold atrial canals to the rib cage that holds it as a cell that completes your bodice.
If you must seek a destruction. Let it be for self intention.
For self seclusion.
Let it be for your own self imprisonment.
Not the caging of your existence by: a state,
a religion,
a county,
a dogma of any sort,
no to ecology,
no to misanthropy.


"Yay", ye shall say. To self worth.
Cole Maxwell Mar 2019
Unlike Drake, we didn't start at the bottom,
We met about midway.
Two people amidst a common problem.
Darkness cloaks this part, at most I'll start to
Coast to the cause of the issues that bother
Cole the most, his heart revokes the thought
Of coming close to ignoring it farther.
I understand like a ghost, I see right through your father,
Voices don't come close to being as
Reprimanding as thoughts do.
They long for your heart to retain as much hatred as they can barter,
Until you can't stand the way that you breath or look at a person the same as you're recalling.
Much to the dismay of Blood,
I had to leave, I was falling,
Alcohol was more important than you all
And for that I'm sorry.
I tried to get away and break my chains
But veins yearn for that which takes the pain
Away and for that I only grew to know more pain.
One thing led to another and still the story's the same,
I've thrown away 5 years of my life to help me dig my own grave.
Amazingly I've made it through to write this story
And say that I've put childish things aside,
And live a better life today.
I support my son and make a living,
Just as Blood may.
As humans we're designed to seek that which
May better our emotional state,
On each individual level.
We chase that which can
Levitate our own knowledge in case there are
Discrepancies at bay.
As people, don't you want to know the full story,
I know your reputation for curiosity precedes you.
If not, why do I not deserve a chance at a sorry?
What means necessary must I take just to have a conversation?
It's quite hypocritical in fact,
But I digress in that partly.
Does trepidation rule over you,
Til you're blind to damnation?
Forevermore, you have risen,
Yet I remain uncomplacent.
Vaughn Fritts Apr 2016
What putrefaction oozes up from hell
To poison aquifers of decency
And common sense? The crops of
reason smell And do not nourish the constituency.
What polar vortex drops from unknown heights To freeze the congregations of the heart?
The steeples topple, enmity ignites
And malice rips tranquility apart.
The times devolve. Security and peace, Once real estate on which a home could rise,
Shrugs off its immigrants, revokes its lease
And shows indifference to human cries.
A Lucifer of arrogant display
Has come to sweep benevolence away.
This is a Shakespearean sonnet, and should be reformatted as such.
their curriculum of beauty is suspense
it confuses the pure essence of sense
stuns and thrills man to indulge and languish
it is a catapult that revokes twitches to distinguish

women flowery toss aloft our deed breadth
our desire and lament proselylate length
we suffer the blight and plaguee of fantasy
we are frail monsters late but in ecstasy

but in them dwell the occult trouble of peace
chide,scold,rebuke and admonish us like louse
rein us by fondues and affectionate devotion
circuitously tenet and statue men in version


eternal motion we dance to the music
their incredulity binds us to mimic
this poem is mainly about women, how they complicate and simplify our life , how love controls us and direct us into sufferings and join but overall the very need of women in our life
Tyler Jericho Jan 2013
With merit badge in metallic flame
and while never failing to find a root from which to let blood flow
navigational will serves our only compass.
The woven path through wood
a rocky spillway Rapid

All to quickly dodge the occasional motorist
and fall and bathe in water warm from long summer sun
To bask in stars and feel the hum of night
Living as such revokes fear
for even in the absence of light, sight is made up for
Euphorias rationed prove a friend of adventure
and infinite exploration is chased with each taste.
10-9-2012
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
i've found a way to exhaust the internet,
in a sense the term exhaustion
is evaluated as non-engagement,
or an engagement  that reveals nothing
but revokes everything; it's a strange utility
to possess an access to; it used to be so much
fun once, now a game of  switching channels
constantly like an angry smack addict
race-walking for the next fix aiming at a canoe
snorted - shove that up your ***
and you'll get bonus points in candy crush saga,
i **** you not. i know, weird, the slogan
WHEN THE INTERNET USED TO BE FUN -
you're talking to someone who experienced
the internet's playground / kindergarten...
it's too real now... it's too artificial limbs attaché,
i missed the dating apps being included,
i missed the point of virtual profiles,
first encounters, i want them to be like
mountain climbing, not like a psychiatric
evaluation testing a trampoline you can do
rodeo girl antics on without suing the organisers...
the ****?! the internet is still a viral infection
in terms of how to manage it - we know it's
a yellow-pages of some sort,
but why reveal all there is to you in profile,
when you hardly looked sideways to endeavour
the profile assertion of the face staged in photography
(i.e. sideways?);
the basic trades are slow to pick it up as necessary,
hence the stress on mandible limbs -
the puny evaluators are gagging on the enterprise,
it will make slim literate efforts of slogan
into FAT EXISTENTIAL RUSSIAN NOVELS -
2 hours pondering a tagline or quote
of an advert like pondering a trademark pondering
a Renaissance masterpiece painting... 'andy Andy
your 15 seconds is up! your competition
is the scientific goldfish myth of a 3 second attention span!
go!
     'andy Andy won't go... he's still
     faking originality on baking beans and canning them
     like sardines... Boston Mohawks they call them;
     it all ends up a ******* dress attire
     party anyway - what they're doing
     in Iraq at the moment is what western
     society is doing passively yet aggressively
     in the west... the psychosis of the crusaders
     with Baphomet... Hercules with **** and ****...
     not one sane Greek sculptor would
     mould such a faking of homosexuality
     as the ultimate depreciation of
     **** ut **** magnetism -
     or hetero ut **** magnetism -
     the desecrating of the past in Iraq
     is only subtle to what Unesco missed
     happening internally in the European
     soul... i fear the rubber-band stretching
     of retaliation hanging by Damocles' thread:
quart divergence (c, k, q, s);
you don't mind my opinion, mind the children
coming from such niches.
RazanSidErani Dec 2014
Curse are the living,
For death is easy.
Gushing wrath of olden winds,
Stab with potential.
Go ahead raise our dead.
Ease them from their story grave.
Pray they crawl out on all limbs.
Ask you your blood,
Don't you dare refuse.
Ask you your truth,
Don't your dare lie.
Coz they already know.
They've swirled around and they've been Here before.
Walked on death leaves,
Death revokes death.
They know they've been here before
Ask you your life,
Don't you dare tell.
© RazanRinaldi
Aaron LaLux Feb 2017
It’s Too Hot To Not ‘Be Coolman’

Our Elders are passing,
the eldest of our trees have fallen,
the Earth is burning up,
but our world “leaders” are still stalling,

it’s too hot now to not be cool man,
the sun is out and there’s no place to find shade,
the Devil has been crowned king,
I guess this is how atrocities are made,

Trump has become president,
the Free World is no longer free,
see now even when you go out into nature,
the National Park system requires you pay a fee,

no place to run no place to flee,
no solid ground to stand on no water to refresh our roots,
so the ground begins to crack the roots begin to dry out,
and the Ultimate Light of Knowledge is replaced by shady half-truths,

the greediest men have one,
and they’re singing the Earth’s death sentence with pen strokes,
gag orders and monetary starvation for all environmental organizations,
it’s getting hotter every day but instead of putting out the fire the flames are just stoked,

this is not a joke,
though I wish it was,
the Evil is out of control,
with an appetite for destruction and a thirst for blood,

conquering land and continuing pipelines,
substituting ****** impotency with devilish dominance,
Keystone as been restarted and Dakota Access is going ahead,
as Donald revokes and repeals any and every good thing Obama ever did,

the sickness is,
spreading,
the ignorance is,
spreading,

dismissing,
cultures that were once preserved,
and we made this bed of earth we must now sleep 6 feet deep in,
because honestly everyone gets what they deserve,

sure,
we didn’t vote for our “leaders”,
but we also have done nothing,
except witness as Greed defeats us,

Jesus,
no Jesus just false prophets,
just end it already,
in 2016 I voted for a massive Comet,

no comment,
if you question any of this,
because I’m not interested in arguing,
with ignorant hypocrites,

witnesses,
such as our Elders see what we do,
and they weep for all of us,
but their tears are not felt,

their cries are not heard,
because if a tree falls in the forest,
and no one is around to hear it,
does it make a sound?

The wind doesn’t blow like it used to,
and the sun doesn’t shine the same,
and yeah everyone’s wearing a uniform,
but honestly this is anything but a game,

this is war,
and in war everyone loses,
please what we really need is unconditional peace,
what we really need is what a truce is,

but these pleas seem useless,
because the eldest of our trees are still falling,
the Earth is burning up,
but our world “leaders” are still stalling…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Jake Bolton Apr 2012
the last embrace i have felt has left me adrift
i can feel nothing
my mind reeling at the thought of it
it revokes my consciousness
i am frozen longing for more
knowing it will never come
soon the warmth will end
i try to forget and move forward
yearning for more of what leads me to destruction
but I'm caught in my own delusion only wanting what the heart desires
and never what the brain knows
i am lost
oscarlevi Jul 2016
Uncertain loneliness pain dresses and appeared that day.

No messages arrive early as every Saturday was.

And after work that night, no one expects him.

That unmistakable Hello! No longer will return to hear.

He comes from away looking work and welfare and, in return found a strange feeling, that changed his life forever.

It's  invisible the mark on the passport of an unknown country.

The city is same but definitely different as when he arrived. It is impossible to name, perhaps. The wind is still blowing cold and the trees are without leaves-.

That day -that city- watched him walk away without a word.

Even the sweet kiss that woke up a different morning do not accompany him.

The nights and days caressed unknowingly be forgotten and no one will undress him tenderly.

And indeed, it is uncertain whether leaves or dies.

In the distance, the voice of a judge revokes that forgiveness for deportation.

Maybe someday meet again or maybe the oblivion take them by surprise. But in the city, no one knows whether dusk or dawn, but he never sees them again.

And the lonely city, remain behind expecting that someday others dare
to enter and stay forever.
My own made rough
By years of discomfort within
Of skin that i wished to the sea
Instead of me wrapping
The passage of time
And evolution has proven
The bottleneck remains deep inside
Through simple confrontation.
Confidence lacking,
Revokes the foundation
Dismantling what was built,
And anxiety threads
Are plucked by fingertips
To tear away the rough
And replenish with red lubricant
Before the clot.

Will I become more confident
By tearing skin back
Ripping shreds to bone
Beyond tendon?
Lie to me
For this tumor
Is beyond any reason
For attempted understanding.
25 lines, 213 days left.
Gavin Oliver Jul 2019
Bad memories pollute the skulls of men like weeds choking beautiful flowers.

A man who has known fear can truly appreciate love.

Hatred magnifies cruelty but compassion nullifies hatred

An open mind can conceive of wonderous things.

A truly repentant man will gain salvation if he revokes past sins.

A flower blossoms with gentle care as does a tortured soul.

Tolerance can bring understanding. Understanding is the key to peace.

Selfish attitudes lead to the downfall of compassion. Unselfish actions sow the seeds of hope
Tom Lefort Sep 2023
Each drink revives that cry for home,
Swallow now the heavy thirst for time.
Where oceans of much loved pasts
Come crashing down in wine.
Each night revokes my every day,
Drink deep the endless need for then.
That swell of longed for yesterday's
Each drop a love of mine.

Tom Lefort 2023
Kurt Philip Behm May 2019
Deeply hidden within thoughts
  that linger

A centuries old message to know
  and then feel

Remembrance crying out from the
  darkness now passing
  
In a voice so familiar—our fortune
  to steal

It calls to us silent, as it waits
  for an answer

It calls to us closer, as all
  distance revokes

It calls from within us in a voice
  our breath fosters

It calls from beyond all past anguish
  and hope

The air now grows heavy with
  a mist that induces

Words mate in the fog as the
  letters reverse

The ending comes first, as the beginning
  still chases

All sleep taken hostage
—as new memories converse

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
Liquor got me so ****** I spilled it on the carpet
My brain is spinnin into emotional dissent like when Artax got ****** into the tar pits.
But still, the story never ends, it's always the same **** thing
And I can't even pretend that it's all okay when I'm flyin 90 around the bend,
Or when I wake up with a text that says "I love you" that I forgot to send.

M:
Love is oft forgot regardless,
Revokes your man card, man, and I'm man cardless
From being careless with my heart ****
But I'm not trying to start ****
I don't wanna whine about some **** ****
I wanna remix Black Eyed Peas so let's get regarded

P:
Let's get regarded in hah
Let's get regarded in here
My dearly departed got deported and then her name got smeared
Like a slam campaign celebrated with fine champagne
Except the partyt just got cut short by the conflicting two poles of my brain.
Much to my dismay this disdain grows.
Am I just really feeling this or actually insane? Who knows?
Callin "Doctor! Doctor! Give me the news!"
He says call Proctor and Gamble before your alimony money is due.

M:
Bro I just made a Proctor and Gamble joke ten minutes ago,
The coincidences are piling up g, makes me think of I Heart Huckabees,
That movie's got that ****** steez,
Coincidence or not I'm ****** lucky I can even breathe
Been smokin cigs since seventeen,
****** a couple beauty queens and probably did a bunch of **** that will come back to haunt me
But I don't flaunt these things, I'm gaunt, bruh, lean like Leland
Referenced Stephen King, bruh, Needful ****** Things, bruh.

P:
I don't need no ****** thing, I'm more of a minimalist.
I'm an Eveangelical Everything's Eventual imperialist.
I'm the second coming of the Reign of the Supermen, I'm not on the ****** Lyst,
And if you don't get what it is I just referenced
Then you better update your weekly comic subscription list. *****.

My life is benign like cyst, I mean,
Banal like a **** clenching a fist.
Yeah, yeah, we get it you're super tough and got a big ****, but here's a little twist,
I've got more facts than Oliver and last week was the last time that you'll ever bother her,
because tonight I ain't as week as you had previously thought of, bruh.
Within the next 5 minutes I'll have verbally knocked out all of your teeth
So no one can understand the **** that comes out your mouth.
I'll smack ya til you're slack jawed mumblin duuuhhh
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2020
Deeply hidden within thoughts
that linger

A centuries old message
to know and then feel

Remembrance crying out
from the darkness approaching

In a voice so familiar—our fortune
to steal

It calls to us silent
as it waits for an answer

It calls to us closer
as all distance revokes

It calls from within us
in a voice our breath fosters

It calls us beyond all past
anguish and hope

The air now grows heavy
with a mist that induces

Words mate in the fog
as the letters reverse

The ending comes first
as the beginning still chases

Sleep only forgiven
as new memories rehearse


(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)

— The End —