Life everlasting...

...EVERLASTING

The garden, the garden, everything, the garden.

Where born, we live to die with pardon.

Holy Water

Is the blood,

Streaming through our stems

Since bud.

Sacrament,

Fertilizes,

When full bloomed

The world despises.

Penanced petals

Prepped to fall,

Garden requiem

Does call

Other souls,

In soil, His seed,

To the gardened

Blossomed breed.

Incensing all

With perfumed prayer

As gardener trims

And prunes with care.

For winter comes,

And colors fade

But scent...can't die...

It leaves as bade.

While once bloomed plant

Withers, no sound

A mulch for soil

And seeds in ground.

'Till back with scent

On harvest day

Together, forever

...Everlasting bouquet.

an EQUAL purgatory

PURGATORY'S

PRIDE

Oh, look at me,

I'm Farrah - "Si"!

I am the talk

Of modesty.

Many children

I've born down,

Many jewels

For my gold crown.

The world it stinks

Of fleshy sin,

My nose is up

Above my grin.

For I thank God

I'm not like them.

My long full skirt

With 12 inch hem.

Oh, look at me

I'm Farrah - "Si"!

I am the talk

Of modesty.

Sometimes they stop

And at me stare

But I just shoot a look

And glare.

And if at Mass

Without a veil.

I'll talk at them

Till they are pale,

And send them running

All tucked tail

Then shout my humble

Prayer and wail...

Oh, look at me

I'm Farrah - "Si"!

I am the talk

Of modesty.

And now I stand

Before the Lord

Waiting for

My crowned reward.

But all He says is

"Look at Me...

And see your

Lack of Charity."

Now I am sitting,

Not so pretty,

In Purgatory's

Love-lost city.

Don't look at me,

I'm Farrah - "Si"!

Please pray for me

Love's poverty!

the Irish

POOR
SOULS

The "Field of Dreams"
Is the poors,
Who else takes chances
At weak-linked lures?

The lure to bite
Reel in what's true,
The rich can't see
The whole lake view.

The poor have nothing
They can lose,
Don't worry 'bout
Financial news.

The poor don't have
Such luxury -
Where they can rest
From misery.

They must take hold
And seize the field
"For the good of the whole"
While rich yaw-yield.

Fed rich are slowed,
By money's weight,
The hungry poor
Knows the hour's late.

So the hungry soul,
Sweats hard at work,
Fed rich sit back
In the coolness lurk.

And when all's built,
By the poor souls dumb,
And all seems safe
Smart rich will come.

With much fanfare,
Give thanks in speeches,
Though regarding the poor
And their babes as leeches

Forgetting the hungry
Poor fit through,
The eye of the needle
Two by two.

And unless fed rich
Lose some of their weight...
The eye of the needle
Will seal their fate.

If we know this, so does Pope Benedict XVI

DANTE'S

CLUB

Vile, vile,

Down the aisle

Narcissistic freaks they file,

Not the fools

Who feign their gaiety...

But tolerant white sepulchred laity.

--
LifeSiteNews.com --

Wednesday March 26, 2008

Vienna Cathedral Museum Exhibits Lewd, Blasphemous Homosexual "Religious" Art

Artist said to be very pleased his works displayed in museum associated with the Church

By Hilary WhiteVIENNA, March 26, 2008 (LifeSiteNews.com) - The Dommuseum in Vienna, the art gallery attached to the historic Catholic cathedral of St. Stephen, is running an exhibition of works by a self-avowed Marxist atheist, titled "Religion, Flesh and Power", that includes depictions of explicit homosexual sex acts in "religious" themed art. Prominent among the works is a rendition of the Last Supper with Christ and His Apostles depicted as homosexuals engaged in an orgy. Another work depicts Christ on the cross without a face but with uncovered genitals. The Last Supper rendition is displayed in a prominent place near the entrance to the exhibition. Vienna sculptor and painter Alfred Hrdlicka is said to be very pleased that his works are being displayed in a museum associated with the Church. The director of the Dommuseum, Mr. Bernhard Böhler, said that visitors have asked "in a more or less emotional way," why the Apostles are depicted copulating. According to the director, the artist responded, "There were no women around".Gloria Television made a short video of the works that shows Hrdlicka's depiction of the flagellation of Christ with a nude Roman soldier performing a lewd act on the Lord's body. The video relates that one visitor to the exhibition said, "Our country can do without scribblers and agitators like Hrdlicka."Vienna's Cathedral and Diocesan Museum was founded in 1933, and describes itself as "one of the exquisite gems amongst the many museums in Vienna". It is located adjacent to the Archbishop's Palace of Christoph Cardinal Schönborn, O.P. The church museum boasts on the website that it offers special tours for school children saying they "learned a lot" about the Cathedral patron St. Stephen and the Christian faith.To contact the Archdiocese of Vienna:Wollzeile 2, A-1010 Wien, OesterreichTelephone: (01)515.52.3229Fax: 515.52.3760
URL: http://www.lifesitenews.com/ldn/2008/mar/08032608.html
Copyright © LifeSiteNews.com. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivatives License. You may republish this article without request provided the content is not altered and it is clearly attributed to "LifeSiteNews.com". Any Internet re-publishing of original LifeSiteNews articles MUST additionally include a live link to http://www.lifesitenews.com/. Republishing of articles on LifeSiteNews that have come from other news sources as noted is subject to the conditions of those sources.

MARCH 25, 1991 R I P

"They have abandoned the Fort, those who should have defended it." St. John Fisher

RIGHTEOUS
THUNDER

Five times banished,

Exiled seventeen,

Excommunicated champions,

God puts at each scene.

Saint Athanasius,

Feast day of worth

On the second of May

The month of great mirth.

Out in the deserts –
As history has charted –

You preserved the true Mass,

Great lion-hearted.

Now Lefebvre,

And the sixties egalitarians,

Like Athanasius,

His time his Arians.

For He who abolished

Death by death

Sent him to absolve

Sin width and breadth.

And yes, the same moon,

The same sun we're all under…

We venal rain - but Lefebvre

Righteous thunder!!

He Is Risen!!

THE
NEVER
SETTING
SON

His head pushed north.
His feet reached south.
His arms spread east
To west,

Allowing men
To mock Him so
And put Him
To the test,

So all the world,
With eyes to see,
Would know His life
Was done.

But when He rose,
They realized,
He’s…
The
Never
Setting
Son!

The Easter Lily

THE LILY

"The martyrs were bound, imprisoned, scourged, racked, burnt, rent, butchered —and they multiplied." St. Augustine



NO BURNING, TEARING,

SCOURGING SKIN.

IT'S PSYCHOLOGICAL,

ALL WITHIN.



NO ROTTING FLESH

OR PUTRID BLOOD

IT'S STERILE, CLEAN

NO RANCID CRUD



FOR BUTCHERED,

TORTURED,BOUND UP SKINS,

REVEALS THE TRUTHS

OF BISHOPS SINS.



THEY WANT IT NICE,

THEY WANT IT HUSHED,

WITH VEINS OF ICE

GOOD SOULS ARE CRUSHED.



THE SILENT COLD,

IS BETTER YET,

FROZEN, SOLID,

CAN'T BEGET.



FOR MARTYRED BLOOD

REVEALS THE CHURCH,

BLIND SOULS SEE TRUTH

AND END THEIR SEARCH.



"WE CAN'T HAVE THAT!"

THE BISHOPS' SAY."

SO LET'S IGNORE...

THEY'LL GO AWAY."


"ENLIGHTENED MEN,

DON'T SCOURGE THE SKIN.

ENLIGHTENED MEN,

KEEP BLOOD, WITHIN."



BUT THEY FORGOT...

THE WOMAN BLEEDS,

AND MONTHLY, MAKES

A BED FOR SEEDS.



WHERE "NICE" AND "HUSHED"

THEY'LL GROW TO MEN

AND SEIZE THE OARS

FROM WRISTS THAT BEND...



ON PETER'S BARK

WHERE BLOOD STILL FLOWS,

FROM WOMAN'S WOMB...

THE LILY GROWS!

2005 Fatima remembered on Holy Saturday 2008

IN THE YEAR

TWO THOUSAND FIVE



In the year of Our Lord,

In the year two thousand five,

Two thousand progressed pilgrims showed

The Faith is truly alive.



Sacred music loud and blaring,

As a godless rival good,

But on the holy Fatima ground

The planet's pilgrims stood.



Louder and louder

Our Mother's Church own,

Played pretty polyphony

So pilgrims might moan.



They tried and tried

To disorient --

But our penanced pilgrims

Prayed with all bent.



And, yes, it was...psychological

No physical martyrdom --

But the wearing down of the psyche's soul

But these psyches' souls were plum,



Because this pilgrims procession

From the Holy Mass had come

With their hearts and souls keeping the beat

Of the Church's Militant drum.



And when that drum is beating,

With Catholic soul and heart,

There never will be a competing

When Triumphant takes her part.



For Church Triumphant's made of souls

Who fought the fight and won...

And to godless rival goods they say,

"We've only just begun!"

GOOD FRIDAY

RED-ROBIN OF

GOOD FRIDAY NOON

I sat upon my back porch step,
One dark, Good Friday noon,
And saw a robin red-breast rest,
To sing a soft, sad tune.

The melody, it brought me tears,
As damp, cool winds blew by.
My soul, it felt the stab of spears...
My sins, that made Him die.

But robin of Good Friday noon,
Your blood-red breast reminds...
That we must stop...confess our sins,
Now death...she holds no binds.

And when on dark, Good Friday noons,
Red-breasted robin sings,
Confess your sins at Sacrament
And sprout red-robin wings.

Maundy Thursday

DAVID'S
LINE

Maundy, misty, night.
Gray shadows 'fore the white.

In silence stripped to wood.
Bared-hard for fifth day, Good.

Then blackest as dawn breaks,
Bursts Light and Limbo wakes.

Where militant, suffering bound,
Reached Church triumphant's ground.

David's line...Abraham, Sarah.
Coeli et...Domini est terra!

St. Louis, MO Catholic Girls' High Schools

Last night my husband and I went to a neighbor's house as they were having an early St. Patrick's Day Party and being Lent we thought we would just stay for a bit to be neighborly. I noticed a woman in her early 50's standing up rocking a newborn back and forth with her 16 yr. old daughter standing by her side.

I went over to see the baby and was startled when I realized it was made of plastic.

I didn't know what to say as the woman was cooing at it and her daughter was tucking the blanket up around the plastic dolls neck as though it were a real baby. I immediately thought that perhaps the woman was mentally ill and just smiled, kindly.

She laughed when she saw my expression of shock and said, "It's not a real baby. It's my daughter's." I still looked perplexed.

The 16 yr. old explained that she had to take care of this plastic doll for 6 weeks to get a good grade in her "Health Class".

"We're each given a $500.00 computerized baby doll (Yes, $500.00) that cries and poops and everything so we can see how hard it is to take care of a baby. So hopefully we won't get pregnant."

I didn't even want to ask (as I was sure I knew the answer) but I went ahead and asked what high school she went to and of course it's one of our "illustrious" Catholic girls' high schools here in St. Louis where the "cultural" Catholics are ever so proud to send their boys and girls...that status thing here in St. Louis. The school is called "Ursuline Academy" run by...you got it...Ursuline Nuns. St. Ursula, pray for us.

A

NURSERY

CRIME

Sing a song of six-pense,

Rubbers in the pocket,

Having sex with consequence

Isn't in our docket.

Four and twenty blackbirds,

No bun in oven bake,

'Cause we have heard our teachers' words

Safe sex no babies make.

When our pie is open,

We'll sing and shrill like birds.

For Health Class taught us copin'...

Skills with plastic turds.

Now isn't that a dainty dish

To set before our King ---

The crucifixion, His death wish

But nuns know everything!

March 13, 2008

SULLIVAN'S

O'DIOCESE



My church, she is a Catholic,

Episcopalean, too.

It really doesn't matter that...

Hank killed a Saint, a few.



He also had, oh, several wives,

And took some of their heads.

But Church of England called him first,

That stallion of all beds.



Carthusians, smarthusians,

In habits hung around.

Quiet, not like Campion,

Hank brought that braggart down.



And merry, Margaret Clitherow,

Oh, what a cheeky dame.

Hiding priests behind her skirts,

Hank crushed her little game.



Then Thomas More, oh what a bore.

They pleaded, some did cry.

"Let horny Hank play his bed prank,

Just nod and wink an eye!"



But Sully says, "That's long ago.

Those times are of past scene."

For those who are not colored-blind,

Our Sully's orange, not green!



And orange is faded blood, once red,

From martyred, by Hank's lust.

Sully, there's no life in bread

That’s only protestant crust!

LENT

MARCH
WINDS

In the month –
Of March winds –
In the night –
When oft man sins.

In the cold –
Shivering, spent –
Sear the sparks –
Good grace’s rent.

Wednesday’s pay –
Winter’s ash –
Deposit made –
No shadowed cache.

And though winds
Blow –
Howl
And thrash –

Again, absolved –
Seared sparks
Will

Flash!

Boundless love

SEA WHISPERS



I sent a whisper

O'er the moon,

Through clouds

In wispy gowns.



I sent a whisper,

Bounced on fog,

Blanketing little

Towns.



I sent a whisper

To the sea

And shore

Where sea-shells found,



For sea-shells

Hold the whisperer's breath…

That God's love

Knows no bounds!

March 8, 2008

SIFTING
SNOW

The snow
The snow
The snow
It falls

The city
Stops
The city
Crawls

The snow
The snow
The snow
Drifts deep

But dawn’s
Early Mass
Will lure
The sheep

The snow
The snow
The snow
Dripping cold

Heavy
Wet wool
As they plough through
So bold

The snow
The snow
The snow
In warmth kneel

Facing the
East
Their wool
Shrinks to steel

The snow
The snow
The snow
Again faced

Outside
Steel-wooled
Inside…
Drenched-graced.

You Can't Take It With You - 2008

LAETARE DAY

In a dear rout of loneliness
how life again sang sweet
when fasting arms knew banqueting
and avid eyes could feast;
and the long Lent of love was eased
for one Laetare Day.

But afterwards came Lent again:
again the fasting way.

by
Robert Farren

LAETARE SUNDAY

LAETARE LAUGHTER

He came,

He died,

He rose...

And Lent

Makes flesh our foes.

But on

Laetare Day,

We sing,

We laugh,

We pray.

Ignatius was not

Wrong.

He said,

"All laugh...

Grow strong!"

So on Laetare

Day,

For God,

We give

Our play,

And you,

To laugh

Along,

Our senses

Light with song.

Then senses

Lost in

Lent,

Will crave

The Lily scent!