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It’s hard to care when you constantly consume
And casually crawl to your next careless doom.
Drown the dreadful sound of death and distresses
With doing diligent duties of deadlifts and presses.
Present your body, perfect your posture,
Purposely pose and perform, what do you offer?
Over and over, overlook the overlooked
And over emphasize and obsess over our looks.
Life is lost; lifeless ,limp and not much left,
Their little limbs lie still and lose all red,
Yet I read and ritualistically refuse to realize
The reality of death, the relentless killing reeling past my eyes.
Everything feels ephemeral, even eons feel like they evaporate;
Every evil event blinds me more and expresses empathy into a concentrate
Which I don’t take;
Which I waste;
My empathetic blood over coagulates-
I’m hardened,
I’m numb,
I’m used to seeing darkness overcome,
But I’m hurting
With head hung;
Is there no way to protect the young?
Is there no way to make a change?
It feels like everything stays the same!
It feels like the west has left this plane
With no plans for right east days.
A mentality of me means we must make
Sure this sense of self is seated in a superior way.
Western ways, wave goodbye, wave your waste-
We are all walking westward without willingly changing pace!
We’re unaware of our own blazed trails,
We’re unaware of the paths we take.
We’re barely even taking a path in the first place.
We’re barely moving, barely speaking,
Barely seeing or even breathing.
I say we, but I mean me, because I know I’m barely feeling,
But conviction in spirit makes all the burying less appealing;
I’m finally folding open each eyelid one at a time,
Prying my eyes into a state that they don’t normally provide;
And I will watch the world for what it really is;
And I will watch the church for what it really is;
And I will watch the body for what it really is;
And I will watch the Christians for who they really are;
And I will watch my brothers and see who they really are;
And I will weep for what I watch and see what really is and who really are,
And how far we’ve fallen from where we say we’ve been,
When we haven’t moved in centuries past the threshold of our own doors,
Or invited others in need to come stand upon our floors.
I imagine what it would be like to believe over seas,
Brought up in darkness, poverty, plagued by disease;
I saw it said the other day,“lord let my next trial be how well can I handle money”
But they are blind to the root of many evils, the toxicity of greed.
Because getting what you can and given little is all we breed
And carve into the hearts of families, worshiping capitalistic means!
“God made capitalism” is such a funny thing to see,
It’s as if we never read an ounce of what we preach.
As if all other nations are dammed by man made decrees,
Divided on how to govern, how to create freedom, or how to eat.
These are tedious things that have no worth.
Tedious things will end up burnt;
Tedious tidy-ups and tie-ups to tuning life will leave you hurt-
It’s overwhelming being caught in the web of pseudo Christianity, pseudo faith and fruit;
Believing what they say as absolute-
At the same time I ponder the reality that my faith has doubts too,
Like how the Bible is made by man, and God’s  hands,
Yet infallible, with pure intentions and plans.
Can I accept that?
I know some of you can’t?
But then what is left that can stand?
Do we determine the character of God like west-wing prophets?
Do we trust ourselves to know God’s thoughts and process?
Pick and choose then pick and lose?
Pick a faulty step and then pick a noose?
Do I trust in you?
You who also say that they’re happy with Alligator Alcatraz?
Who laugh when families are taken from their dads?
Who cheer for pain and suffering of others?
Who don’t know even the slightest meaning to the word brother?
Or do I follow you who worships the endless pit of consumption?
The one who can’t live without getting something?
Never content because you are chasing around a doorless fence;
Worshiping the air, the particles, or even the sound of your breath.
Always hungry, always changing, never considering the emptiness.




In all of this I find comfort in two greatly forsaken ways:
Laying down my life for others,
And in my demise giving thanks.
I am thankful for my pain.
I am thankful for suffering when I do.
I would rather suffer than watching it happen to you.
My prayers recently have been along the lines of this:
“Jesus may you save those in pain and show me how I can help.
May you bring peace to all who are suffering, even though their lives are hell.
Open my eyes to see the ways that I ignore their yells,
And may you help me to love greatly, even if it hurts myself.
Thank you for my family, my son, my wife, my home.
Thank you for being here with me even when I feel alone.
Thank you for your blessings and I trust you always provide.
Even when I have nothing, I know you’re by my side.
Help me to endure what is needed to break off the heavy spells
That this world is casting day by day to make me hate myself.
I love you Lord and how your word has never let me down;
Pastors, brothers, and friends all will; in you, help me have no doubts”.
I didn’t carry the processional cross,
But I carried burdens—quiet, unseen.
While others walked down marble aisles,
I walked through fire, clothed in routine.

I wore no robe of woven white,
No candle's glow to guide my feet,
Yet still I stood beneath the light,
And bore the ache of each heartbeat.

They saw the servers—neat in line,
With steady steps and lifted grace,
But who could see the heavy spine?
That bowed beneath a silent place?

I didn’t lift that wooden sign,
Emblem of salvation’s cost—
But oh, I’ve held a thousand cries,
And mourned the things that I have lost.

I watched the pews with hollow eyes,
As hymns rose like drifting prayer,
And wondered if my quiet sighs.
We have never heard or met with care.

I didn’t carry the cross of gold,
But I bore words unkind, untrue—
The ones that pierced, the ones that rolled
Like thunder breaking something new.

I bore the doubt, the questioning stares,
The judgments whispered after Mass,
The moments no one truly dares
To ask, "Are you okay, alas?"

They carried candles, and I had pain.
They lifted praise, and I bit my tongue.
While incense rose like gentle rain,
My grief within me always clung.

I bore the weight of being there,
While feeling lost, misunderstood—
Still showing up, offering care,
Still doing more than I thought I could.

I didn’t carry the processional cross,
But I carried silence, carried shame.
Carried hopes now cracked and glossed,
And bore the absence of a name.

And yet—I stayed. Through all the cost.
Through unseen tears and faith grown thin.
I bore the burden, never tossed,
And found a small light somewhere within.

So let them hold the cross with pride,
While choirs sing and bells arise.
I walk the aisles with none beside—
Still serving through these unseen cries.

For though I may not bear the wood,
Or walk in robes of sacred thread,
I carry love the way I should,
And lift the souls the world has shed.

I didn’t carry the processional cross,
But I carried burdens, day and night—
And in that pain, I found the gloss.
Of grace, of grit, of hidden light.

"I didn't carry the processional cross, but I carried burdens."
I've been an Altar Server before in our Parish, but they misunderstood my good intentions and judged me over my position. I received disrespect and humiliation from my co-servers and others. I hope they are happy now, because I have decided to resign and quit.
Written: 6/29/2025

Strangely nothing is implied this time.
Sitting here on the guest bed and doing laundry
after grinding it hard at the crunch gym.
Tomorrow marks 3 months living in
Lost Cruces, New Mexico.
Taking the side path with a sign that says:
'for the stoics'.
but then again would it really be 'My' path?
I watched my own slashings and whippings for 15 years.
Wishing things would become simple so I've
stepped here.
Here after all the : back-stabbings, loss,
funerals, isolation, self-hatred and the like.
Not only have I grown hinds feet but
I've grown white wings.
At the top of the mountain are the eagles.
Swarming and flying around in circles.
The ones who gave everything up, not quite dead
but always in the threat of it.
I look back at the sign, turn around and walk back.
Anyone can take Marcus's trail
but I don't get a choice with mine.
And just like the poem I wrote over a decade ago:
5 steps with flight:
Though my wings can't make it up;
just as of yet
I pray for more persecution at the river
of unbelief
to become more
weightless.
A poem about walking on a predestined path of horror © 2 days ago, Sean C. Stucki   church
Zelda Jun 19
Maria
tells me
to come to Madrid

Sit in the pews
de la Real de la Almudena
with shadows
and ghosts

Maria,
lighting candles—
Extinguished souls:
done begging,
just burning through the skin.
Aching
in the bone.

Maria,
Santa Maria—
can’t save
you
or me
or us

I'm just trying my best
To hold it together...
But—

Maria—
persecute the saints,
    I'll be in the Moulin Rouge—
free the sinners

Maria
tells me
to come to Madrid

Santa Maria—

Maria...
June 7, 2025
Steve Page May 22
I know the face of God
I have that faith beyond my sight

I know my fellow pilgrims
I have this comfort of common doubts.

I doubt my church at its lychgate
I bear these beliefs in its shade.
Prompted by lines from Conclave, the movie, and also by my recent discovery of lychgates (also known as resurrection gates), sheltered gates standing between consecrated and un-consecrated space, where coffin bearers would wait for the vicar.
Yon nouvo Papa
Yon nouvo espwa
Orevwa Pap Franswa
Ki te fè yon bon jòb, bèl bagay kòm yon Gran Klèje
Nou tout konnen ke laj pa kwè nan dinasti
Nou vini, nou ale epi nou ale tankou yon ti bo
Detanzantan, nou bezwen san nouvo
Epi natirèlman, li natirèl; Se pa yon krim
Novum papam habemus
Novum spem habemus
Nou gen yon nouvo espwa
Nou gen yon nouvo Rwa
Yon nouvo lidè pou Legliz Katolik
Ankèt la fini, eleksyon an fini, tout kontwovès fini
Sa fè plizyè dizèn ane kounye a, peson pa etènèl
Dènye Pap yo janti, sansib, intèlijan e inivèsèl
Mwen espere pontif sa a pi bon pase tout lòt anvan yo
(Fòk nou pa ri) Denye Pap la chita nan syèl la
Pou depoze epi siyen tout dokiman li yo kòm sa dwa
Kote yon dividal zanj ap chante anba tant diven yo
A mwen pa konn si ke yap bwè di ven
Mond lan jodi a plonje nan yon sitiyasyon dezastre e malveyan:
Manti, krim, koripsyon, ekspilsyon, diskriminasyon ak enpinite
Dayè, sa se yon eufemism, se diminye bagay yo
Sepandan, lemond antye anvi:
Lapè, lapè e lapè
Nou vle ke tout move rèv kaba, fini:
Enjistis, lagè, ipokrizi, rasis, entolerans ak povrete
Novum spem hablemus
Novum papam hablemus
Nou gen yon nouvo espwa
Nou gen yon nouvo Papa
Se pou Bondye beni nouvo Pontif sila, lanati ak limanite!

Dwa otè © 8 me 2025, Hébert Logerie, Tout dwa rezève.
Hébert Logerie se otè plizyè koleksyon powèm.
Un nuovo Papa
Una nuova speranza
Addio a Papa Francesco
Chi ha fatto un lavoro meraviglioso come Alto Clero
Come sappiamo, l'età non crede alle dinastie
Veniamo, andiamo e ce ne andiamo come un bacio
Ogni tanto c'è bisogno di sangue nuovo
E naturalmente è naturale; Non è un crimine
Novum papam habemus
Novum spem habemus
Abbiamo una nuova speranza
Abbiamo un nuovo Papa
Un nuovo leader per la Chiesa cattolica
L'indagine è conclusa, le elezioni sono concluse, la controversia è finita
Da diversi decenni ormai nessun uomo o nessuna donna è eterno
Gli ultimi Papi sono stati gentili, umili, sinceri e universali
Spero che questo pontefice sia migliore del precedente
(Non è uno scherzo) Chi siede in Cielo
Per archiviare e firmare i tuoi documenti
Dove innumerevoli angeli cantano sotto le tende divine
Il mondo oggi è precipitato in una situazione disastrosa e maligna:
Menzogne, crimini, corruzione, espulsioni, discriminazione e impunità
Cavolo, è un eufemismo
Tuttavia, il mondo intero anela a:
La pace, la pace e la pace
Vogliamo che tutti gli incubi finiscano:
Ingiustizia, guerre, ipocrisia, razzismo, intolleranza e povertà
Habemus novum spem
Habemus novum papam
Abbiamo una nuova speranza
Abbiamo un nuovo Papa
Che Dio benedica il nuovo Pontefice, la natura e l'umanità!

Copyright © 8 maggio 2025, Hébert Logerie, Tutti i diritti riservati.
Hébert Logerie è autore di diverse raccolte di poesie.
Un nuevo Papa
Una nueva esperanza
Adiós al Papa Francisco
Quien hizo un maravilloso trabajo como Alto Clero
Como sabemos, la edad no cree en dinastías
Venimos, vamos y nos vamos como un beso
De vez en cuando se necesita sangre nueva
Y por supuesto, es natural; No es un crimen, una ofensa
Nuevo papam habemus
Nuevo spem habemus
Tenemos una nueva esperanza
Tenemos un nuevo Papa
Un nuevo líder para la Iglesia Católica
Se acabó la investigación, se acabó la elección y la polémica
Desde hace varias décadas, ningún hombre ni mujer es eterno
Los últimos Papas han sido amables, humildes, sinceros y universales
Ojalá este pontífice sea mejor que el anterior
(No es cosa de risa) Quién se sienta en el cielo
Para archivar y firmar sus documentos
Donde innumerables Ángeles cantan bajo las tiendas divinas
El mundo de hoy está sumido en una situación desastrosa y maligna:
Mentiras, crímenes, corrupción, expulsiones, discriminación e impunidad
Maldita sea, eso es quedarse corto
Sin embargo, el mundo entero anhela:
La paz, la paz y la paz
Queremos que todas las pesadillas terminen:
Injusticia, guerras, hipocresía, racismo, intolerancia y pobreza
Habemus novum spem
Habemus novum papam
Tenemos una nueva esperanza
Tenemos un nuevo Papa
¡Que Dios bendiga al nuevo Pontífice, a la naturaleza y a la humanidad!

Copyright © 8 de mayo de 2025, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de varias colecciones de poemas.
Un nouveau Pape
Un nouvel espoir
Adieu au Pape François
Qui a fait un travail merveilleux en tant que Grand Clergé
Comme nous le savons, l'âge ne croit pas aux dynasties
Nous allons, venons et partons comme un baiser
Le sang neuf est nécessaire de temps en temps, aujourd’hui
Et bien sûr, c'est naturel ; ce n'est pas un crime, un délit
Novum papam habemus
Novum spem habemus
Nous avons un nouvel espoir
Nous avons un nouveau Pape
Un nouveau chef pour l'Église catholique
La recherche est terminée, finies la recherche et la polémique
Depuis quelques décennies, aucun homme ni aucune femme n'est éternel
Les Papes récents ont été amicaux, humbles, sincères et universels
Que ce pontife soit meilleur que le précédent
(Pas de quoi rire) Qui est assis au Ciel
En train de classer et de signer ses documents
Où d'innombrables Anges chantent sous les tentes divines
Le monde actuel est plongé dans une situation désastreuse et maligne :
Mensonges, crimes, corruption, expulsions, discrimination et impunité
Bon sang, c'est le moins qu'on puisse dire
Cependant, le monde entier aspire :
À la paix, la paix et la paix
Nous voulons que tous les cauchemars cessent :
L'injustice, les guerres, l’hypocrisie, le racisme, l’intolérance et la pauvreté
Habemus novum spem
Habemus novum papam
Nous avons un nouvel espoir
Nous avons un nouveau Pape
Que Dieu bénisse le nouveau Pontife, la nature et l'humanité !

Copyright © 8 mai 2025, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
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