Thursday, December 21, 2006

Systematic Platypus

"I can't stand those sort of hymns. They're too lilting and seem like they're always folding back on themselves. I like the ones that have more force to them: da,da,da,da,dum!' You know, something by Wesley."

The Integrated Evangelical

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Post-Something Platypus

A SONG

The world's all for burning while
The movie's two-hour play,
Squelches some half-earnest yearning
'bout a million miles away.

We rage against the machine with
Three-minute anthems in the street,
Until a Starbucks Latte
Makes us rest our unused feet.

"Our God is very great!" calls the voice from out the wilderness.
"Our God is very great!" cries the voice from out the storm.

Is there no balm in Gilead,
We ask with eyes wide closed.
And beat our raw backs bloody,
before the mirror: primp and pose;

Knowing in some vague tomorrow,
There's a place were it seems,
Ten Million Aborted fetuses
Keep all our "might-have-been's."

"Our God is very great!" calls the voice from out the wilderness.
"Our God is very great!" cries the voice from out the storm.

Excuse me, because my mind
Is too broken to make reply,
It doesn't really matter since
I'm never gonna die.

Death's just a dumb commercial,
When you've got a PS3,
And a million dead whoevers?
Well, they aren't as cool as me.

"Our God is very great!" calls the voice from out the wilderness.
"Our God is very great!" cries the voice from out the storm.


Saturday, December 02, 2006

Strange Platypus(es) Part VIII

And I saw in my dream that I now stood in a great and open space surrounded by pinnacles of crumbling stone. As my eyes became accustomed to the twilight, I saw the pinnacles were great ruins of masonry, five of them, and in between were strewn the colossal wreck that had once made them a united whole. I asked the one who stood with me, who was at once very near and very far, and whose height one minute soared to the heavens, and the next minute was a few scant inches above my own what it meant, and who had broken down this once mighty building. And he answered with a voice like a storm in the wasteland: "It was once a mighty church, but four men came and broke it down with hammers, each intending to rebuild it, greater and truer than before, but a fifth came in with many followers and stole the fallen stones and scattered others so that no one was able to rebuild it. And the names of the four men are these: Ignatius, Martin, Desiderius, and John. The fifth man who came with all his followers was named Francois-Marie." And I said: "Surely, the first four ought not to have broken it!" But the one who stood with me replied: "How do you know what they ought or ought not to have done, oh man? You cast judgment on them for you see the ruins and can only imagine what it looked like in their time. I have told you that fifth man came with his followers and scattered and plundered the stones, but there was no one to tell them. Indeed, these are not mere men, but also five types of men. Do not forget that this is but a dream, having no more truth or lie than what a dream may tell!" And I replied: "Must it forever remain a ruin then?" The one who was with me answered: "It will not, but the time and manner of its rebuilding is not for you to know." I had much more to ask him, but even then the sun shone through the curtain and I awoke, taking from our speech together no more than the shadow of a dream.