Eating Beauty

I'm eating Beauty

man and woman so contained

He created them

- Gary Edward Geraci

Mercenary Lover

Married for money and 

Wealth; patiently waiting for 

Death do us part.

Decorated soldier of fortune;

Overseas for political

Gain later.

Best of friends because she

Holds the key to the next rung of

The ladder.

Loving God for God alone-

No; for consolations,

Safety, and health!

Calculating and contemptible,

Love like this

Is mercenary.

Cilice, sackcloth, and hairshirt

Worn by an albino numerary.

(named Silas)

- Gary Edward Geraci

Mud Puddles

Little boys playing in the brown mud

Toy dump trucks building reservoirs

Took a hose to fill it - with Water

God playing in the red dirt dug out

A human form only one time

Took a nose to fill it - with Spirit

Nothing's been the same since 

a bright electric green Carolina Anole 

in a Texas humid summer black oak tree 

while Vivaldi baroque sonatas and cannoli 

and coffee play and provoke the senses making 

sense of a scented blue paper origami turtle taking

time while a team of pea size featherlight flower balls 

go power racing down the baking black asphalt street 

tickling, having fallen from pink and white crêpe myrtle trees 

- Gary Edward Geraci

On the Fence

I will send Him to you; fire and love divine.

Scratch, ruffling, flipping, and flopping feathers flitter,

Wounded white-winged dove on the red cedar fence line.

Crossed paths with a lead pellet September fly-in,

Soaring high wind flight, buckshot bead barely hit her.

I will send Him to you; fire and love divine.

Concrete birdbath cleansing, clear, and cool to recline,

Restoring, resting, fit not to fly but not a quitter.

Wounded white-winged dove on the red cedar fence line.

Since long ago, love so pure, nothing can outshine,

Clouded, stench filled souls translucent and aglitter.

I will send Him to you; fire and love divine.

Hardened hearts hounding heavy yokes heed the hard line,

Pursuing passing pleasures, love starved and bitter.

Wounded white-winged dove on the red cedar fence line.

Dearest adored, chased, and loved yet you do decline?

Unrequited love, pride of self to embitter.

I will send Him to you; fire and love divine.

Wounded white-winged dove on the red cedar fence line.

- Gary Edward Geraci

I Wrote the Check

Telltale spots of rash, could mean only one thing, I've been struck again, with a bout of poison ivy on the skin. Why my Lord do you permit me to suffer such? Have I not turned my life around enough? Isn't it true a serpent leapt out and bit Saint Paul on the finger and an assassin's bullet struck and passed through the body of Pope Saint John Paul II, two mighty warriors of the Church? We feel like we are invincible, because of our many practices of piety, but oh how soon we forget, the value of suffering and reparation, for the sins of our past, and for the sins of the whole world. While I prayed I begged you for an answer, oh why me Lord, don't I serve you well enough? You were sure to send me back an answer, because you always do, I tell, and sure to form what I've witnessed, time and time again, your answer was suddenly there, right before me, oh well. A new marker on the columbarium, just outside of daily Mass, the name of a child that I never held, alas! A child whom would never be touched and admired, for her healthy beauty and soft skin. Suddenly I knew, no suffering you could permit, would ever feel like enough, to make up for the loss of someone, so helpless and so pure. I should count my blessings from above, and thank little Helen Marie, for thinking so lovingly enough of me, to send an answer to my prayer. I may not have been the one, to drive the nails into my Lords hands and feet, some 2000 years ago, but indeed some 30 years ago, I wrote the check that drove, the instruments of death, toward that someone, certainly, just as innocent. Now without complaint, this poison ivy of the skin, I do suffer and offer, for my sins and for those sins of the whole world.

- Gary Edward Geraci

Safe Rooms for the Pusillanimous

You spew more pompous pedantry

Than a sixty inch principal 

Spillway pipe flowing from a full

Reservoir filled by rainfall, three

Feet in less than twenty four, presently

Steady rising water level; visual

Picture of hell to the local political

With the doomsday media there to see.

Just so happens, your ignorance contained,

The dam retards the crisis as designed.

Those who believe are more than half-brained,

Seeking the safe room you're just kept blind.

Facing the turbulence and bloodstained,

It's resisting the flow that saves mankind.

- Gary Edward Geraci

My Food Is You

Sort of blinding loyal glee

Held in kindly awe of me.

Perfect company you are

Searching, thirsting from afar,

You'd never leave me alone.

Your love fills me to the bone.

Author of love you're completely mine,

My food is you, both bread and wine.

- Gary Edward Geraci