Theodosius Patty
by Ted L Glines

Talking with a friend
'bout the way we name names
always after the father
in patrilineal games.

My friend knows 'bout Patty
my abiding love
so an idea took root
like a hand in a glove.

Fathers are good
but mothers are best
and a name from the lady
would be ever blessed.

Theodosius wrote
'bout genetics and flies
a favorite author
whose prose gave me sighs.

And we talked about how
you could break those rules
and choose your own name
in this world of fools.

She suggested to me
while just being chatty
if I married my love
I could be Mister Patty.

“Theodosius Patty”
what a wonderful label
and that is the end
of this name-changing fable.

Thief
by Ted L Glines

Rich man gets and never gives
inspired by only how he lives
caught in the trap of ulcered  money
he knows that faith is simply funny
meant to have his titles and fame
always proud of his pedigreed name
needing his power to stay the same.

Poor man struggles for every dime
openly craving for money and time
over-enslaved to pay his way
relying on Heaven to bring him away
meant to play his consumer game
always burning in debt's hot flame
needing more than he'll ever claim.

Begger man waits for your gifting grace
eager to please - knows his place
gestures to you to give him a start
got nothing but hope in his heavy heart
elated  by fortune's tiniest deal
relying on faith to bring him a meal
meant to share the leavings and blame
always drifting and hiding in shame
needing to walk but always lame.

Thief - lost in the land of milk and honey
he knows that faith is simply funny
intellect being his only grace
eager to fleece in making his place
frantic to win the endless chase.

Author's Notes: So,  which one are you? Which one is  best? If you had the chance to  choose, which role would you rather play? The  acrostic in this  one is obvious. I only hope that the verse says something about  the choices we make, and roles we play in our world-society of  (currently) about  6.5 billion people. Blessed be.

Them Golden Streets
by Ted L Glines

Don't want no gays no blacks
sittin' in my pew,
just let me walk with Jesus
like the other Baptists do.

We sing so loud and righteous
our zeal is surely blessed,
our souls are godly pure
and our virtue is the  best.

Don't want no raghead Arabs
in my store or in the schools
'cause there ain't no god named Allah;
... just some more of Satan's tools.

God says we shalt not kill
(our righteous Baptist brothers),
so Onward Christian Soldiers,
let's Crusade against the others.

Don't want no Wiccan witches
in my church or in my town,
I'm sure that my friend Jesus
toasts them sinners with a frown.

Gonna look for my Salvation
and my Pastor shows the way,
"Get your hoods and get your guns,
Oh my Brothers, let us prey ..."

Gonna wear my golden slippers
when I walk that golden street,
Halleluya -- Southern Baptists,
clap your hands and feel the heat.

In His House are many mansions,
and I'm sure that you can tell
that I've got my reservations
for the mansion known as Hell.

Author's Notes: Sometimes,  when you want to  emphasize a wrongness, it is best to express  it from the Wrongness point of  view, rather than the weaker position  of just talking bad about the wrongness.  The thoughts and opinions  in this poem are exactly what I hear expressed in my  little East  Texas home town. "Get your hoods and get your guns ..." is about  three KKK members that I know. Two of them are respected businessmen,  and the  third is a Pastor. But that is how it is in this little  "Bible Belt" town, and I  hope I have captured their essence, as  any poet should.