49-50 “‘The sin of your sister Sodom was this: She lived with her daughters in the lap of luxury—proud, gluttonous, and lazy. They ignored the oppressed and the poor. They put on airs and lived obscene lives. And you know what happened: I did away with them.
The Message
George Floyd with his church brothers and a Bible he’d actually read: “In his right hand was the word.” Photo by Nijalon Dunn.
[Verse 1]
She came from Providence
The one in Rhode Island
Where the old world shadows hang
Heavy in the air
She packed her hopes and dreams
Like a refugee
Just as her father came across the sea
[Verse 2]
She heard about a place people were smiling
They spoke about the red man’s way
And how they loved the land
And they came from everywhere
To the Great Divide
Seeking a place to stand
Or a place to hide
[Verse 3]
Down in the crowded bars
Out for a good time
Can’t wait to tell you all
What it’s like up there
And they called it paradise
I don’t know why
Somebody laid the mountains low
While the town got high
[Verse 4]
Then the chilly winds blew down
Across the desert
Through the canyons of the coast
To the Malibu
Where the pretty people play
Hungry for power
To light their neon way
And give them things to do
[Verse 5]
Some rich men came and raped the land
Nobody caught them
Put up a bunch of ugly boxes
And Jesus people bought them
And they called it paradise
The place to be
They watched the hazy sun, sinking in the sea
[Verse 6]
You can leave it all behind
And sail to Lahaina
Just like the missionaries did, so many years ago
They even brought a neon sign: “Jesus is coming”
Brought the white man’s burden down
Brought the white man’s reign
[Verse 7]
Who will provide the grand design?
What is yours and what is mine?
Because there is no more new frontier
We have got to make it here
We satisfy our endless needs and
Justify our bloody deeds
In the name of destiny
And in the name of God
[Verse 8]
And you can see them there
On Sunday morning
Stand up and sing about
What it’s like up there
They call it paradise
I don’t know why
You call someplace paradise
Kiss it goodbye
“Peace cannot be built on exclusivism, absolutism, and intolerance. But neither can it be built on vague liberal slogans and pious programs gestated in the smoke of confabulation. There can be no peace on earth without the kind of inner change that brings man back to his right mind. ”
― Thomas Merton, Gandhi on Non-Violence p. 31
oil painting Ted Barr
HE HANDED IT TO ME THEN, I DUNNO, how I did it—knew I shouldn’t, but I just sliced me a slice of fruit with the ol’ barlow knife while I was looking at a coiled up snake, who’d been talking to my woman.
Yes, damnit, I know I should have been suspect of a talking snake. Howsoever, first thing I know, I was making moonshine, skip and go naked foolin’ round til waay after midnight, every-night, everything seemed clear for a while, but trouble was I ended up havin’ to get-a-job, plus plow the farm and then the woman left, and I had to take care of the kids too, and keepin’ the house from fall’n apart.. No more huntn’ and fishin’ just makin’ mortgage payments for a farm I had been given free and clear long ago. Before the bank was even a notion, and…
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James Ross Kelly lives in Northern California next to the Sacramento River. Mr. Kelly was a long-time resident of Southern Oregon where he grew up. This poem will be published in his new book of poems Black Ice and Fire by Uncollected Press in 2020. Additionally, And the Fires We Talked About published by Uncollected Press in 2020 is Mr. Kelly’s first book of fiction. View all posts by James Ross Kelly Published May 22, 2020
St. John One: One 