Father Roberts (OP, SJ) Homily for Monday of the 6th week of Eastertide

Monday of the 6th week of Eastertide – Feast of Saint Augustine of Canterbury, Bishop

Daily Readings

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Entrance Antiphon Romans 6: 9

Christ, having risen from the dead, dies now no more; death will no longer have dominion over him, alleluia.

Collect

Grant, O merciful God, that we may experience at all times the fruit produced by the paschal observances.

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

First reading – Acts 16:11-15

Sailing from Troas we made a straight run for Samothrace; the next day for Neapolis, and from there for Philippi, a Roman colony and the principal city of that particular district of Macedonia. After a few days in this city we went along the river outside the gates as it was the sabbath and this was a customary place for prayer. We sat down and preached to the women who had come to the meeting. One of these women was called Lydia, a devout woman from the town of Thyatira who was in the purple-dye trade. She listened to us, and the Lord opened her heart to accept what Paul was saying. After she and her household had been baptised she sent us an invitation: ‘If you really think me a true believer in the Lord,’ she said ‘come and stay with us’; and she would take no refusal.

Responsorial Psalm – Psalm 149:1-6,9

The Lord takes delight in his people.

Sing a new song to the Lord,  his praise in the assembly of the faithful. Let Israel rejoice in its Maker, let Zion’s sons exult in their king.

Let them praise his name with dancing and make music with timbrel and harp. For the Lord takes delight in his people.  He crowns the poor with salvation.

Let the faithful rejoice in their glory,  shout for joy and take their rest. Let the praise of God be on their lips: this honour is for all his faithful.

Alleluia.

Gospel Acclamation – John 15:26,27

Alleluia, alleluia!

The Spirit of truth will bear witness to me, says the Lord, and you also will be my witnesses.

Alleluia.

Gospel – John 15:26-16:4

Jesus said to his disciples: ‘When the Advocate comes, whom I shall send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who issues from the Father, he will be my witness. And you too will be witnesses, because you have been with me from the outset. ‘I have told you all this that your faith may not be shaken. They will expel you from the synagogues, and indeed the hour is coming when anyone who kills you will think he is doing a holy duty for God. They will do these things because they have never known either the Father or myself. But I have told you all this, so that when the time for it comes you may remember that I told you.’

Prayer over the Offerings

Receive, O Lord, we pray, these offerings of your exultant Church, and, as you have given her cause for such great gladness, grant also that the gifts we bring may bear fruit in perpetual happiness. Through Christ our Lord.

Communion Antiphon – John 20: 19

Jesus stood in the midst of his disciples and said to them: Peace be with you, alleluia.

Prayer after Communion

Look with kindness upon your people, O Lord, and grant, we pray, that those you were pleased to renew by eternal mysteries may attain in their flesh the incorruptible glory of the resurrection. Through Christ our Lord.

Homily

ResurrectionWe see today in the reading from the book of Acts, the drastic lengths that the Apostle Paul was willing to go to in order to spread the Gospel: He travelled all around the known world, whether by boat, horse, or on foot. Such was his zeal to spread the good news of the Gospel. For what a wonderful message it is: in the thick of depression, darkness, war, sickness, famine, defeat and death a surprising promise of victory is spoken. A promise of salvation. And while this promise was spoken by Paul to Lydia and her household, it was not meant only for her. For the same promise that was spoken to Lydia by Paul is today spoken by me to you. You are in Heaven, if only you would open your eyes to see it!

And furthermore, this is a promise that is intended towards the entire world and everyone in it. This is why Paul travelled as far and wide as he did; this is why he went to great pains to spread the message to the ends of the earth. And the content of this promise is why he was so completely fearless in his evangelistic endeavour: “Christ has risen!”

But what is the significance of the fact that this man, Jesus of Nazareth has risen from the dead? What does it mean for me? What does it mean for you? Why exactly is it good news?

It is good news because it was not only Jesus who resurrected on that glorious morning of Easter Sunday. No, it was you. It was me. It was all of us. It was everyone you love, everyone you care about. The entire human race was resurrected on Easter Sunday. The Entire Human race defeated death on Easter Sunday. The entire cosmos stepped out of the tomb, in the form of the divine λογος made flesh: the resurrected Christ.

That is why this is good news, and that was the message that Paul proclaimed. It was not merely “Jesus has defeated death”, it was far more personal and powerful than that: “YOU have defeated death: you need never fear damnation again, for this day is the day of your salvation.” Let the demons tremble at the victory of the son of God, for there is not one left under the power of Satan; all have been freed and liberated, and all that remains is the love that drives the cosmos to it’s destiny.

And so as we see in the Psalm today, now is the time to sing a new song to the lord, for he has redeemed us, saved us, glorified us. He has held his breath and dived head first into the dark depths of this Hell on earth that we have made for ourselves, grabbing us by our hair with his grace and dragging us up to the surface and the light of the sun. Let us praise the name of God with dancing and make music with all of our many and various instruments . For the Lord takes delight in us, the people he has won for himself.  We are poor, lowly sinners, but he is the immensely good and infinitely gracious God who delights in crowning poor sinners with salvation. We are the faithful and we rejoice in our glory,  we shout for joy and enter into our rest. Let the praise of God be on all our lips: for this honour is for all you.

But this is not a promise that can be spoken by just anyone. Only those who have allowed the Holy Spirit to penetrate deep into their soul are able to proclaim it. For the Holy Spirit is always knocking at the door of our hearts, but most of us only let him halfway in. We must instead allow him to flood our minds with his omniscience and foresight, allowing us to penetrate into the mists of the distant future and confidently proclaim the glorious destiny that lies in store for us all. This is what we affirm in our Gospel Acclamation today: Whoever proclaims the risen Christ does so by the spirit.

But the proclamation of the risen Christ is more than just words spoken and heard. The full, drastic, offensive, beautiful implications of the promise incarnate must be understood. Firstly: No one will ultimately fail to achieve salvation! Secondly: There is nothing whatsoever you can do to earn this salvation. Neither belief, nor works; not even being a Christian will make a difference. It is only by the indwelling spirit that we are able to confidently proclaim, “Christ is risen and your future is secure. You are already in heaven. You are finally free to repent, believe and love”

Jesus himself prophesies in today’s Gospel that we will suffer persecution for the sake of the promise. We will be cast out of churches, driven out of mosques, chased out of temples and synagogues. But do not fear: for the promise is effective, regardless of the response of the listener. All people will be saved, no matter how hard people deny it and no matter what reasoning they invoke to escape it.

And so let us finish by pondering the final prayer of today’s mass, where we ask God to look with kindness upon the people of the world, and sovereignly grant that all people be renewed by the eternal mysteries of the faith, and attain in their flesh the incorruptible glory of the resurrection.

There is no better hope than this: that death has no hold over us, for we have already encountered our resurrected selves, and there is absolutely nothing remaining which could possibly prevent us from arriving safely in the glories and salvation of the Eschaton.

Let us praise God for his glorious grace and immeasurable goodness.

Father Alex Roberts (OP, SJ)

The First Epistle to Dominican Brother Reginald OP (Order of Preachers)

52984124_117642846042761_8701216142372372480_n[1]I’m totes mega-devs that you’re about to be whisked away back to Melbourne within the next two months or so. You’re the first Dominican that I’ve really gelled with and there’s a special place for you in my heart. Previously my only exposure was Father Manes, and his accusations of heresy came across as being drenched in anger and dripping with poison. Whereas you and me are able to just have a laugh about it all, as is charitable and loving to do. I hope we will be able to stay in touch once you disappear back down south. You’ll definitely be in my prayers. If I get rich again with both time and money, I will try to visit Melbourne regularly to catch up with you! You strike me as someone with a soft heart who is willing to listen, and so I find myself spontaneously writing this message and exhortation to you.

As your friend I want to do whatever I can to help you be a good and faithful Dominican, Catholic and Christian. But I also want to help you to understand and trust the Gospel promise, which transcends all religious categorisations and labellings. Because nothing else matters. Catholic law and tradition is true and good and beautiful, and both you and I should do our best to follow it, praying the divine office, saying the rosary, serving mass, getting baptised, going to confession and all the rest of it. But without trusting that divine promise this is all just dead works and empty piety; without faith in the gospel we end up just burning rubber at 300kph and not actually moving anywhere.

The promise is that salvation is well and truly unconditional; you literally don’t have to do anything whatsoever and God just gives heaven to you for nothing; Trust that promise and enter into heavenly joy right damn now, skipping death and purgatory. And once you realise that you don’t have to be Dominican, Catholic, and Christian, all of a sudden these three things come alive with colour and symphony and you do them purely out of love and without a trace of fearful obedience. You also become freed to become all things to all people, knowing that nothing can snatch your salvation away from you.

For there is only one mortal sin, which is to fail to trust the gospel promise that I am now speaking to you. Not because failing to trust it will send you to Hell, but because in failing to have faith you are already there; lost and wandering in the outer darkness, and burning in the lake of fire. The Catholic moral law is merely commentary on this fact: there is only one “sin that leads to death”, and it is the failure to understand and trust my promise. This is not a retributive punishment, it is merely a sad brute fact of reality. But God is sovereign, and his promise cannot fail, even though he refuses to force it on us. God’s word achieves what it sets out to achieve, and he promises that his love will hunt you down wherever you may run to, and woo you until you can’t help but say “I love you” back to him.

So I have total and absolute certainty that one day you will be saved (“anathema! anathema!” scream the Fathers of Trent), but why wait? Why not just do it right now? Now is the only moment that matters: We shouldn’t be concerned with trying to “get to heaven” and “avoid Hell” in the future; for these two things are present realities and so we should strive to enter Heaven right now. The eschaton is infinitely distant into the future, and we will never get there, as the eastern church fathers confess; but the eschaton can also explode in our hearts today, at this very hour, if only we would trust that good news and promise. By faith in the promise, our souls cross the uncrossable chasm from Hell to Heaven, and the infinite distance between now and that final victory which lies at the end of the age.

When you truly trust the promise, you realise that not only are you already in heaven, but everyone else is too, and yet they do not realise it. And so evangelism becomes painfully easy for the missionary; all they need do is articulate the promise and proclaim it to the people around them, trusting that God is sovereign, and his promise is effective, and that the Holy Spirit is sowing seeds in the heart of the listener that will infallibly blossom into faith and love at some point in the future. There is no need to thrust 2000 years of Catholic tradition onto the poor neophyte; that comes later. Start with the simple Gospel promise, finish with the sacraments. To do it in reverse is utterly disastrous, as the billions of scrupulous and indifferent Catholics attest.

And lest there be some confusion about the content of this promise, here it is: “I, Alex, in the name of the resurrected Christ, Love you with the divine love, and we promise you that God is with you, even as you wander in Hell. We promise you that God will rescue you from the darkness, and he will use us as his instruments in this battle. We promise you that if you should somehow find yourself trapped in the eschatalogical, everlasting, eternal Hell-fire that lies beyond death, not even this will stop us from saving you. God is eternally more eternal than eternity, and infinitely more infinite than infinity. and so not even the everlasting Hell can prevent us from rescuing you. Christ and the church – the army of God – are with me as I proclaim this promise to you: We are prepared to make the charge against the fortress of Hell. And as Christ promised; the gates of Hell shall not prevail against us. We will rescue you, and no rebellion, death, sin, “freedom”, demons nor devils can ultimately separate you from our love.” This promise will not fail: trust it! And if you doubt the promise, do not ignore your questions and objections; instead confront them and crush them with prayer and meditation. You will not truly appreciate the power of God until you see him face to face, but we do not have to wait till we die to do that. Do it right now, by faith in the Gospel.

Forgive my long and presumptuous ramblings. I tend to get doxological and theological after my morning coffee. And in any case I myself am constantly enthralled by the beautiful Gospel promise in every hour of my existence; whether sleeping or waking. I can’t help but gush about it to you, as the divine love and Joy can’t help but bubble up and overflow out of my heart and attempt to penetrate yours. I want nothing more than to share this love with you. It is a love that explodes all theological and philosophical language, transcending all of our precious dogmas and anathemas. For it is God himself, and both I and he want nothing more than to explode out of my soul and save the world.

But even after all of this has been said, in truth we are trying to pursue a holy silence. I cannot speak this silence to you, but I can direct you to it. And when you trust the promise, we will both be dwelling in that divine silence, where words become unnecessary and impossible, communion is complete, the bliss never ends, and the joy can never again be snatched from us. And so the bottom line is truly as simple as this, I love you, and on the basis of the resurrection, I promise to save you. Please, trust me!

Through, with and in the divine love of Christ,

Alex

(Go to The Second Epistle to Brother Reginald)

Baptism at an Ancient Eastern Roman Catholic Orthodox Easter Vigil – A Rite Of Passage

xir244981_1024x1024[1].jpegby Aidan Kavanagh, OSB

I have always rather liked the gruff robustness of the first rubric for baptism found in a late fourth-century church order which directs that the bishop enter the vestibule of the baptistery and say to the catechumens without commentary or apology only four words: “Take off your clothes.” There is no evidence that the assistants fainted or the catechumens asked what he meant.

Catechesis and much prayer and fasting had led them to understand that the language of their passage this night in Christ from death to life would be the language of the bathhouse and the tomb — not that of the forum and the drawing room.

So they stripped and stood there, probably, faint from fasting, shivering from the cold of early Easter morning and with awe at what was about to transpire. Years of formation were about to be consummated; years of having their motives and lives scrutinised;  years of hearing the word of God read and expounded at worship; years of being dismissed with prayer before the Faithful went on to celebrate the Eucharist; years of  having the doors to the assembly hall closed to them; years of seeing the tomb-like baptistery building only from without; years of hearing the old folks of the community tell hair-raising tales of what being a Christian had cost their own grandparents when the emperors were still pagan; years of running into a reticent and reverent vagueness concerning what was actually done by the Faithful at the breaking of bread and in that closed baptistery …

Tonight all this was about to end as they stood here naked on a cold floor in the gloom
of this eerie room.

Abruptly the bishop demands that they face westward, toward where the sun dies swallowed up in darkness, and denounce the King of shadows and death and things that go bump in the night. Each one of them comes forward to do this loudly under the hooded gaze of the bishop (who is tired from presiding all night at the vigil continuing next door in the church), as deacons shield the nudity of the male catechumens from the women, and deaconesses screen the women in the same manner. This is when each of them finally lets go of the world and of life as they have known it: the umbilical cord is cut, but they have not yet begun to breathe.

Then they must each turn eastwards toward where the sun surges up bathed in a light which just now can be seen stealing into the alabaster windows of the room. They must voice their acceptance of the King of light and life who has trampled down death by his own death. As each one finishes this he or she is fallen upon by a deacon or a deaconess who vigorously rubs olive oil into his or her body, as the bishop perhaps dozes off briefly, leaning on his cane. (He is like an old surgeon waiting for the operation to begin.)

When all the catechumens have been thoroughly oiled, they and the bishop are suddenly startled by the crash of the baptistery doors being thrown open. Brilliant golden light spills out into the shadowy vestibule, and following the bishop (who has now regained his composure) the catechumens and the assistant presbyters, deacons, deaconesses, and sponsors move into the most glorious room most of them have ever seen. It is a high, arbor-like pavilion of green, gold, purple, and white mosaic from marble floor to domed ceiling sparkling like jewels in the light of innumerable oil lamps that fill the room with a heady warmth. The windows are beginning to blaze with the light of Easter dawn. The walls curl with vines and tendrils that thrust up from the floor, and at their tops apostles gaze down robed in snow-white togas, holding crowns. They stand around a golden chair draped with purple upon which rests only an open book. And above all these, in the highest point of the ballooning dome, a naked Jesus (very much in the flesh) stands up to his waist in the Jordan as an unkempt John pours water on him and God’s disembodied hand points the Holy Spirit at Jesus’ head in the form of a white bird.

Suddenly the catechumens realise that they have unconsciously formed themselves into a mirror-image of this lofty icon on the floor directly beneath it. They are standing around a pool let into the middle of the floor, into which gushes water pouring noisily from the mouth of a stone lion crouching atop a pillar at poolside. The bishop stands beside this, his presbyters on each side: a deacon has entered the pool, and the other assistants are trying to maintain a modicum of decorum among the catechumens who forget their nakedness as they crowd close to see. The room is warm, humid, and it glows. It is a golden paradise in a bathhouse in a mausoleum: an oasis, Eden restored: the navel of the world, where death and life meet, copulate, and become undistinguishable from each other. Jonah peers out from a niche, Noah from another, Moses from a third, and the paralytic carrying his stretcher from a fourth. The windows begin to sweat.

The bishop rumbles a massive prayer — something about the Spirit and the waters of life and death — and then pokes the water a few times with his cane. The catechumens recall Moses doing something like that to a rock from which water flowed, and they are mightily impressed. Then a young male catechumen of about ten, the son of pious parents, is led down into the pool by the deacon. The water is warm (it has been heated in a furnace), and the oil on his body spreads out on the surface in iridescent swirls. The deacon positions the child near the cascade from the lion’s mouth. The bishop leans over on his cane, and in a voice that sounds like something out of the Apocalypse, says:

“Euphemius! Do you believe in God the Father, who created all of heaven and earth?”

After a nudge from the deacon beside him, the boy murmurs that he does. And just in time, for the deacon, who has been doing this for fifty years and is the boy’s grandfather, wraps him in his arms, lifts him backwards into the rushing water and forces him under the surface. The old deacon smiles through his beard at the wide brown eyes that look up at him is shock and fear from beneath the water (the boy has purposely not been told what to expect).

Then he raises him up coughing and sputtering. The bishop waits until he can speak again, and leaning over a second time, tapping the boy on the shoulder with his cane, says:

“Euphemius! Do you believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, who was conceived of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, and was crucified, died, and was buried? Who rose on the third day and ascended into heaven, from whence he will come again to judge the living and the dead?”

This time he replies like a shot, “I do,” and then holds his nose…

“Euphemius! Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, the master and giver of life, who proceeds from the Father, who is to be honoured and glorified equally with the Father and the Son, who spoke by the Prophets? And in one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church which is the communion of God’s holy ones? And in the life that is coming?”

“I do.”

When he comes up the third time, his vast grandfather gathers him in his arms and carries him up the steps leading out of the pool. There another deacon roughly dries Euphemius with a warm towel, and a senior presbyter, who is almost ninety and is regarded by all as a “confessor” because he was imprisoned for the faith as a young man, tremulously pours perfumed oil from a glass pitcher over the boy’s damp head until it soaks his hair and runs down over his upper body. The fragrance of this enormously expensive oil fills the room as the old man mutters: “God’s servant, Euphemius, is anointed in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” Euphemius is then wrapped in a new linen tunic; the fragrant chrism seeps into it, and he is given a burning terracotta oil lamp and gold to go stand by the door and keep quiet. Meanwhile, the other baptisms have continued.

When all have been done in this same manner (an old deaconess, a widow, replaced Euphemius’s grandfather when it came the women’s time), the clergy strike up the Easter hymn, “Christ is risen from the dead, he has crushed death by his death and bestowed life on those who lay in the tomb.”

To this constantly repeated melody interspersed with the Psalm verse, “Let God arise and smite his enemies,” the whole baptismal party — tired, damp, thrilled, and oily — walk out into the blaze of Easter morning and go next door to the church led by the bishop. There he bangs on the closed doors with his cane: they are flung open, the endless vigil is halted, and the baptismal party enters as all take up the hymn, “Christ is risen…,” which is all but drowned out by the ovations that greet Christ truly risen in his newly-born ones. As they enter, the fragrance of chrism fills the church: it is the Easter-smell, God’s grace olfactorally incarnate. The pious struggle to get near the newly baptised to touch their chrismed hair and rub its fragrance on their own faces. All is chaos until the baptismal party manages to reach the towering ambo that stands in the middle of the pewless hall. The bishop ascends its lower front steps, turns to face the white-clad neophytes grouped at the bottom with their burning lamps and the boisterous faithful now held back by a phalanx of well -built acolytes and doorkeepers. Euphemius’s mother has fainted and been carried outside for some air.

The bishop opens his arms to the neophytes and once again all burst into “Christ is risen,” Christos aneste …. He then affirms and seals their baptism after prayer, for all the Faithful to see, with an authoritative gesture of paternity — laying his hand on each head, signing each oily forehead once again in the form of a cross, while booming out: “The servant of God is sealed with the Holy Spirit.” To which all reply in a thunderous “Amen.” and for the first time the former catechumens receive and give the kiss of peace. Everyone is in tears. While this continues, bread and wine are laid out on the holy table; the bishop then prays at great length over them after things quiet down, and the neophytes lead all to communion with Euphemius out in front.

While his grandfather holds his lamp, Euphemius dines on the precious Body whose true and undoubted member he has become; drinks the precious Blood of him in whom he himself has now died; and just this once drinks from two other special cups — one containing baptismal water, the other containing milk and honey mixed as a gustatory icon of the promised land into which he and his colleagues have finally entered out of the desert through Jordan’s waters. Then his mother (now recovered and somewhat pale, still insisting she had only stumbled) took him home and put him, fragrantly, to bed.

Euphemius had come a long way. He had passed from death unto a life he lives still.

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Delivered at Holy Cross Abbey, Canon City, Colorado,
Theology Institute, August, 1977
Copyright © 2003 St. Nicholas Orthodox Church. All rights reserved.

Aiden Kavanagh, one of the great liturgical scholars and sacramental theologians of
the twentieth century, delivered this lecture at Holy Cross Abbey, Canon City,
Colorado, Theology Institute, August, 1977. He departed this life in June, 2006.

Hermeneutics 101: You must interpret Hell in light of the Gospel, rather than interpreting the Gospel in light of Hell.

hell_vs_heaven_by_i_r_s[1].jpgYou must interpret Hell in light of the Gospel, rather than interpreting the Gospel in light of Hell.

Yes, Hell is eternal, but not even an eternal Hell can prevent God from saving us. Yes, We are truly free, but not even our freedom can thwart God’s sovereign salvific plans.

This stubborn Catholic insistence that we are “Free” and Hell is inescapable only serves to keep all these poor Catholics chained in the black prison of the outer darkness, and crushed in the lake of fire under the towering flames of their own guilt. This attitude that God cannot, or will not save those in Hell comes from none other than the great deceiver; the Devil. It basically amounts to saying that God is not good, loving, sovereign and powerful. These are the most satanic blasphemies possible, and they are uttered by faithful Catholics. They think that in doing so they are defending the truth; how tragic that in reality they are it’s mortal enemies.

And this is the truth God loves everyone who is in Hell, and he promises us that he will not rest until he has rescued every single soul who is stuck there. But don’t be presumptuous: at no point will he force himself on anyone. He will continuously attract us with his beauty, seduce us with his love and eventually win us over. He will not stop until we freely crumble and confess “I love you” back to him. He will pursue us for as long as it takes, and never give up on us.

If God chooses you (And I promise you: he has), It is predestined that you will eventually choose him, so stop resisting. You don’t have to do anything. This promise will come true regardless of how you respond to it. You don’t have to become a Christian, you don’t have to get baptised, you don’t have to “believe in Jesus”, technically you don’t even have to believe in God (but that’s a discussion for another time). However if you DO trust that the promise is true, heaven will explode into your life right now. You, your friends, and your family are all guaranteed to be saved. Believe that promise and rejoice!

LSD Heroic Dose Trip Report: Beauty and Heavenly Bliss, Dark Psychosis and Insanity

Christ Failed – Temptations in the Wilderness

Location: Sydney, Australia

Background

My new flatmate L was playing his first Gig at a cool bar on Glebe point road (Red bar). I was keen to turn up and show some support. On a couple of previous occasions, I had 1. Microdosed a 10th of a tab and gone to work. 2. Microdosed half a tab, 3. Taken a full tab and stayed up all night translating the Vulgate into English. I recalled that the full tab of acid didn’t really have much noticeable effect – almost no visuals and the headspace wasn’t particularly different. In retrospect this was probably due to the rapid tolerance buildup of psychedelics (I was unaware of this at the time). In any case, due to my lackluster experience tripping on a single tab, I decided that this time I would take two.

I took the two tabbies as I left the house and headed to the bus stop to catch a bus from Annandale down parra road to glebe. I donned my “trippercunt sunnies” – diffraction glasses that split light into it’s component colours. I also wore my most expensive shirt, a mambo “roses” loud shirt that hasn’t been in print for years and regularly sells for over $300AUD on ebayau. This fact became highly relevant the next morning.

The Gig

I quickly arrived at the venue, while still coming up, and rubbed my hands as I looked at the décor: The furniture all was semi-transparent and illuminated from within with many and various colours, purple, pink, blue, red, green. There was also all sorts of psychedelic and spiritual art hanging on the walls. I instantly got good vibes as I knew this was gonna be a kickass trip.

I found a seat middle and centre in front of the stage and listened to the opening solo act by HF, who is a regular opener in the Sydney gigging scene. I had invited my other flatmate (little A)’s sister S to come along too, and she arrived during the opening act. We chatted as I was coming up about her new job and my current job hunt and uni studies.

Eventually HF concluded his act and my flatmate L and his band mounted the stage. All of a sudden I started getting WILD visuals. My flatmate L has a bit of a hunch, but his lead guitarist was standing tall and straight. It suddenly hit me hard just how short L looked next to this guy. And now that the acid was kicking in, he looked like even more of an oompa loompa because his bass guitar was so damn massive. All of the colours of the lights, the curtains, the stage the walls started popping and jumping. The rug that the band was standing on started to melt and wave and the patterns on it looked like live snake sorta things. I could read every little expression on the faces of the members of the band. L looked so excited and happy that the gig was going well. He kept breaking out into these nervous but happy smiles whenever the crowd applauded. Seemed like I wasn’t the only one having a good trip.

I just sat there, shuffling in my seat due to the body load, but not feeling “bad” in any way whatsover. The gig was amazing. The entire show felt like a religious experience. I felt as if I was God, and this band was giving me glory. The fact that so many people gathered together to watch this performance felt as if it had some sort of cosmic significance. As if this is the meaning of life and the pinnacle of human achievement. I started thinking that the story of history is the story of the emergence of God: In the beginning there was nothing, and from that nothing sprung everything, and via evolution, humanity emerged, and with humanity, beauty, truth and goodness. I started to perceive that mankind is on a trajectory towards God, and that final moment of history IS God.

These were the utterly crazy theological and philosophical thoughts I was thinking, and they only got even more intense as the next band mounted the stage. This band was hilarious: on the right side of the stage were three really cool looking dudes with badass haircuts, clothing and moustaches, playing drums, keys and bass. On the left side of the stage was this super geeky looking guy playing guitar. His parents were in the crowd and got a shoutout. In the centre of the stage was what I can only describe as a goddess. This girl with a perfect feminine figure, just the right amount of makeup, brilliant, revealing attire that showed off her physical goods and beauty. While tripping hard on the acid, I was struck to the core by beauty and mystery of the feminine form. I felt drawn to it on a deep and profound metaphysical, essential level of my being. Suddenly I was reconsidering my vocation: Do I REALLY want to enter the priesthood (I had been discerning priesthood for about three years and up to this point, was super committed to signing up)? Considering that the mystery of the feminine has captured my heart in such a fundamental way, perhaps this is some sign from God that my vocation actually involves marriage?

I continued thinking all these thoughts, and absorbing the beauty of this diva with my eyes as they played their set. The sensation that I was God and these people were here to worship and glorify me intensified. The visuals exploded. I noticed every little detail that presented itself to me through my five cardinal senses simultaneously.

Finally, the headline act went on. I was tingling with excited ancipation as I saw the final band wheel their instruments onto the stage. “Holy fucking shit” I thought to myself, “these cunts are playing a fucking HARP and CELLO!” It was a three piece band, with keys, harp and cello. I still felt like God, and as the weirdly dressed keys player gave commentary and introduced the songs, I got this fascinating train of thought that was something like “Look at what my little people are doing, gathering to offer praise and worship to me. Look at how far they’ve come.”

As the harp and the cello and keys started playing, I just lost my shit, in the best kinda way. I could perceive all the infinite microtones as the bow crossed the strings of the cello, as if it were an auditory fractal. It was simply the most beautiful thing I had ever heard in my entire life. And the music was in a slightly sad and melancholy key. The emotions that were being conveyed by the music  were ineffable and beautiful and sad. It felt as if the entire story of history was encapsulated in the song: All the ups, all the downs. The tragedies and the victories. And it just felt as if it was a “movement forward”, as if there is only one direction we can go: onwards and upwards to the heights of heaven.

“It just keeps getting better” I remember thinking to myself. “This is heaven”. I was experiencing infinite bliss, but not just infinite bliss, infinitely INCREASING bliss. This beatific vision was completely exponential!

And yet the sad notes in the music made me remember. Remember all the tragedies of life and history, remember the holocausts, genocides, rapes and murders. And all of a sudden, for the first time in my life, I was struck with the full force of the mystery of evil. “What even is evil?” I remember whispering to my flatmate L, who had resumed his seat in the crowd. I simply couldn’t comprehend it. I knew from my theological studies that evil has no inherent existence or reality, that it is a complete illusion, and suddenly I realised just how mysterious that is.

It just seemed so baffling to me, that here I am, experiencing the heavenly joy that comes from listening to the angelic music of the eschaton, and yet ISIS is out there lopping heads off at this very moment. It just didn’t seem right. Like, of course this is a wonderful moment and I am enjoying it to the full, but fuck; what am I supposed to make of the fact that Hitler did what he did to the Jews? How should I understand this supreme symphony of good, in light of the incomprehensible mystery of evil?

These thoughts occupied me all the way to the end of the gig. At no point did the trip actually become a “bad trip”, but I started to take on a strong sense of apprehension and anticipation. Somewhere deep down, I realised that tonight was to be the night where God (me) confronts evil and attempts to make sense of it. And I realised that this fundamental interplay between good and evil is what is driving all of reality as we know it.

The Walk Home

As the gig was over, I exited with my flatmate L and we headed for the busstop. Now that the supreme beauty of the music had concluded, the trip started to get very confusing. I remember saying to L something about how girls don’t exist, and all girls are evil. I was pondering the fundamental dualisms of masculine and feminine, good and evil, and I was drawing some link between light, goodness and masculinity, and another link between darkness, evil and femininity. I thought of the story of Adam and Eve, and how Eve (the feminine) was the principle which introduced sin into the world. L had no clue what I was talking about, and probably was amused at just how hard I was tripping. I began to distrust him, thinking that he was an enemy in some respect. I hadn’t known him for very long after all.

As we got to the busstop, L called an uber and hopped in with his girlfriend. I decided to walk home. That turned out to be a very bad idea.

I walked down paramatta road, still thinking I was God, but this time the thought had a very Christian slant on it. I thought that I was Jesus. I was relating my trip to the gospel stories. I felt as if I had just descended from heaven to earth, and right about now the temptation in the desert was probably due to occur. As I walked home down parra road, pondering the mystery of evil, the insanity started to overcome me. It just sorta crept up on me as I was philosophising. It was as if wondering about evil with such intensity was driving me mad.

I started to feel as if I am invincible, and made the stupid decision to stop by a servo and buy a supersized energy drink. I seriously doubt that the massive caffeine and sugar hit had a positive impact. I even realised this at the time, and was thinking to myself “I am going to die tonight. And when they find me, it’s gonna make the newspapers and they’ll comment on how the exact moment where it all went downhill was when I decided to smash an energy drink while high as fuck on acid”

My thinking started to get more and more scrambled. And the thoughts loops got more and more intricate. Eventually I made it to the local maccas and decided I wanted to get something to eat. I stood in front of the touch screen interface where you order your food, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure it out. I kept touching and selecting and there was just something that wasn’t working. At the time I figured the system was bugged, but in retrospect I was probably just tripping really hard.

I felt like I was standing in front of that touch screen for an eternity, punching the options and trying so hard to buy something. Notions of “Limbo” and “purgatory” became stuck in my mind, and I felt as if I had failed in my temptation in the wilderness and was being punished with this eternal torture of eternally trying to order dinner and not being able to.

Eventually I managed to snap out of it, say “Fuck it” and get out of the maccas. But my delusions of grandeur were multipling. As I walked through the carpark, I started throwing my wallet and phone away, thinking “I don’t need these”. I felt as if I was living out the most important moment of my life, and it was like “I don’t need a phone. There are more important things. I don’t need a wallet.”

I started to feel as if no matter what I do, I can’t die. I felt as if even if I stepped out into the traffic, something would stop me from being run over. I felt as if it was not yet my time to die, and I could therefore do any stupid thing and be ok. This was clearly VERY dangerous thinking.

Following that train of thought, I ended up knocking on the door of two of the brothels on parra road. There are a craptonne of brothels on parra road. Usually I just walk past them and laugh, but I had always been curious about what goes on inside, and I was in the perfect mindset to ring the bell and find out. I was let in to both of them, but very quickly ferried out once the mistresses realized I had no money on me.

Divine Madness

I was descending even deeper into madness. By the time I got to the empire hotel, I was thinking about the orthodox “holy fools” of Russia. These crazy dudes who get naked and wander around the towns and villages prophesying. I started to feel as if I was one such holy fool, with a message that could save the world. That idea, coupled with my sensation of invincibility, caused me to unbutton my shirt and cast it off into the wind and the night. As I crossed the road, I dropped my pants and underpants, and kicked off my shoes and socks.

I was stark naked, rambling on and on about good and evil, walking around residential Leichhardt. Thankfully it was a very quiet part of town, so I’m pretty sure not many people saw me, but still it was an incredibly wacky occurrence.

Eventually I made it home, but I didn’t have my keys on me because I had thrown them away back at maccas. I ended up pacing in loops between my front door and the front door of the house beside ours. My philosophizing was in overdrive. I was thinking about the trinity, dualism, masculine, feminine, the whore of Babylon, the virgin Mary, Jesus etc etc etc.

My drug induced insanity just kept getting worse. Eventually, failing to get in to my house, I instead continued to walk around the suburb, and eventually found myself walking in circles around the local catholic church, where the capuchin friars live. The visuals were labyrinth by this point. Not good, not bad, just alien and weird. I was stuck in insane thought loops, and the trip was oscillating between good, bad and neutral. When I was feeling good, I was anticipating that at any point it would head south, and when it headed south, I was holding onto the gospel promise that it’s all gonna be ok in the end and eventually I would return to the good. This was clinical insanity.

One common theme that kept recurring was the idea that “the unknown” could intrude into my reality at any time. And I was prophesying to myself as I walked around naked around the church that “yes, at some point tonight, something unexpected is gonna happen that sends me to hell.”

The Cops Arrive

Well, lo and behold, as I found myself pressing my naked body against the cold outer wall of the church for some reason, a cop appeared. Soon there were more cops. They asked me what I’d taken. I wanted with all my heart to cooperate and answer their questions honestly, but I was tripping so hard by this point that it was a struggle to communicate with them. They ended up pulling me aside and sitting me down on the concrete, as they tried to establish who I was, where I live, what I had taken, what the fuck I was doing naked running in circles around the local church at midnight etc.

I was very much in “bad trip” territory by this point. The cops were relentlessly asking me the same questions over and over again. “Where do you live?”, “Do you have any flatmates?”, “What’s your name?”, “How old are you?”, “Have you taken anything tonight?”

At one point one of the male officers laughed out loud and said “He’s the priest!” and I just felt so full of shame, thinking that I legitimately was the priest and was setting a terrible example and letting down the parish and the church and God. Suddenly one of the officers was saying “Look at his passport photo! He looks like a criminal!”. I was so utterly confused, thinking “how the fuck do they have my passport?”

After what felt like an eternity of shame and horror, the officers chucked me in the back of the paddywagon and locked me up. I felt resigned to my fate. I figured I was about to go to prison, my family was going to be notified, my life was coming to an end. The ride in the back of the police wagon felt like forever.

But wow what good luck I had. When the door of the wagon opened, I found myself out the front of my house, with L standing there at the front door looking sleepy, annoyed and bemused. I hopped out, walked up the steps and went straight inside to the shower.

The cops must have been able to accurately extract my address from me during the earlier interrogations on the concrete at the church. One of them had driven over, knocked on the door and asked L to confirm that I live there. L had gone to my room, found my passport and proved that I was a resident. So instead of locking me up for the night they just kindly drove me home. I was so infinitely thankful that it turned out like that, rather than something worse.

But I was still shaken up by the experience. As I hid under the covers of my bed, I had to leave the lights on so that I could stare at my clock and verify that time had passed and time was passing. The insanity was wearing off, but I was still terrified that at any time I could discover that it was all a dream, and I was actually in a prison cell or somewhere worse. I remember going down and brewing some tea and holding my head in my hands while praying “Oh God, please tell me it was a dream, please tell me it didn’t really happen”.

I managed to rest up a little. When I woke up, I discovered that it was NOT just a dream and it DID really happen, and I knew this because I didn’t have my phone, my wallet, my shoes, or my $300 loud shirt. I had to retrace my steps and literally pick up the pieces. I couldn’t remember where I had dumped all my stuff on the way home, and I had to make use of apple’s “find my iphone” app to locate all my stuff. I ended up finding everything except for my shoes, socks, watch, drink bottle and loud shirt. It had rained during the night, so my shorts and underpants (which I found in the middle of the road) were soaking wet.

Conclusion

In the end, I learned so much from the experience, and I don’t regret it. But It was the first time that I realized that bad trips can involve the police, and actual bad things happening, rather than just psychological terror. I have tripped many times since then, but not on acid. This trip taught me that acid is psychologically next level, and 25i-nbome is actually a safer drug in terms of the headspace.

This trip directly led to me reconsidering my vocation. After being so utterly fascinated by evil, darkness, the feminine, I figured God might be calling me to move away from ordination and instead investigate relationships with girls again. Maybe I’ll get married? At time of writing (A couple of months after this trip), I’ve picked up a new girlfriend. The future is bright, and even from a bad trip, good lessons are learned.

O What a Wonderful Woman

11188301_992465680764810_852338263089643008_n.jpgMy heart is on fire,
for the first time in years.
But no rollercoasters
Nor butterflies this time

Just a warm armchair
Pulled up by a fire
Where we can sit, cuddle
and stare into the flames.

I am so happy and content with you;
The most beautiful girl
To ever have caught my attention.
Peaceful, Gentle, Quiet, Lovely.

Your virtues fly past the moon
Your loveliness singing between the stars
I am deeply attracted to you
So joyous that you have fallen into my life

I’m not worried this time around.
Not scared that you will abandon me
Not terrified that you will abuse me
Not horrified that you will betray me.

And I know that you are afraid,
So rest in my confidence
I have enough for us both
It will carry us onwards in hope.

I adore you and I trust you,
and I pray that you’ll trust me
As together we catch the little foxes
Frolicking in the vineyard of our love

Be my salvation and I’ll be yours
As we reflect Christ and church
The marriage of good and evil
An epektasis of light and dark.

Let us hold hands and ascend to the eschaton
Our souls dancing and spirits mingling
Rising, rushing through the empyrean
with kisses and smiles, hugs and cuddles.

May God bless us with consonance and grace
Showering us with blessings.
May he lead us to the divine joy,
and a laughter that never ends

Alex Roberts – 2019

Ecstasy

sexyforeplayblackandwhite[1].jpgThe kiss, playful and testing at first, then committing to penetration with the tongue. At first I feel surprise, but then dive in and the kiss turned full body as we drew our bodies closer and closer together. We were melting into each other. I was losing my breath, she was losing hers. It was awesome. Her wetting her lips in expectation and tilting her chin back saying “I want this”.

The grope. It was great to play with her erect and electrified nipples and to delicately squeeze her wonderful breasts. It was brilliant to watch her smile and see her look of bliss, to hear her lose breath, hide under the covers, let out little moans, lose control, all just by my love, my fingers and her trust. As she guided my hand beneath her shirt and held it there. All too much. All too good.

Her eye contact, the avoidance of her eye contact. Every now and then she would look at my face, then close her eyes and smile and turn away with a look that said “How did I get here? How did this happen? why did he pick me? How did I end up with this great guy holding me? Who is he?”. The fact that I was so comfortable gazing at her and taking her in while she felt overwhelmed by it in such a positive way.

Her face, hair, nose, lips, cheeks, eyes, eyebrows, eyelashes. Her sleeping head resting on my chest.

The little, honest comments I would drop which made her feel special made me feel brilliant, like I was the man. “You’re beautiful” I would whisper, staring into her eyes, and her face would light up as she closed her eyes and turned away, looking as if she was melting under intense love from the manliest man on the planet. The feeling of making a girl feel so special is wild. “You’re lovely”, “So are you”. The fact that she was speechless. “You… There are no words that describe you…”. I felt like The Shit. My love is indescribable? Well thank you lord!

Her attachment. “Don’t leave without me”. Her tracking us back to the flat. “Come have tea with us”. “Come to breakfast with us”. Her stream of text messages! How did I manage to make such an impression on her? If it is the love of God, I can’t stand to see it perverted. By this point, there was all too much pride…

Playing with her hair and hands. Having her draw on me. The physical trust.

“It could have been anyone” “but you’re the one who stole my phone”

“fine… enjoy your stoopid walk”
“Oh I will 😛 Until next time :)”
“Next time?”
“:)”
“…”
Silence

Alex Herlihy – 2014

The Riddle of the Universe

space-960x460[1].jpgI sublimate all that I hear, smell and feel.
Savour that taste which I see is not real,
Believe that by this, it all comes together
As Identity for now and forever.
The choices I make, the best I can be,
Both to myself and society,
Life, the universe and all are the same,
For I have met God, and absurd is his name.

And now my head is spinning round;
I fly up only to come plummeting down.
For the final Zenith of Absurdity
Is only a proud ode to Insanity.
As I fall under the gaze of eternity
I look back, and there’s nothing to see
Where is the truth? The Light? The life?
I’m cornered by sin, surrounded by strife

To dive down into deepest despair
Nothing makes sense, I’m gasping for air
Pulled down by my pride

A bible story
A man in the desert, Tempted by Satan
What does it mean?

Faith

Alex Herlihy – 2014

Osmosis

36799eecddf334aff3ba8457289edd26[1].jpg

This word

This word osmosis
It sounds so awesome.
But its meaning is piss;
The definition of boredom.

Green mushroom clouds
are brought to mind
and firework shrouds
I do hope to find.

Red water, purple rain;
the essence of dreams
which can destroy all pain.
But this is not what it means:

“Osmosis is the diffusion of water
through a semi-permeable membrane.
When the plastic suffers pressure
Aqua pura goes down the drain.”

How could that be more boring?
It lacks any trace of imagination,
It’s sure to get you snoring,
My colours don’t even get a mention!

What a massive waste of a word.
To this I say “screw you science!
You transformed gold into turd
and killed this word, Osmosis.”

Alex Herlihy – 2009

Formal

Normanhurst-Boys-High-School[1].jpgWe were Sitting down at lunch one day,
Me and Ba, and Scott and Ray,
Being Happy and merry (But never gay)
Until Shank decided to come our way.

The conversation quickly turns,
To that which makes the stomach churn;
Hot chicks, porno, renticle tape
To make shank stop it, we give him a shake.

“Profanities Shank” loudly proclaims Ba,
“Give it a rest” I say, “You’ve gone too far”
“bIsAmused equals false” guffaws semlar,
And Ray just pretends to play a guitar.

Ba scratches his head and thinks of a topic,
one that is safe and will make shank stop it.
Up until then, everything was normal…
“So who are you guys taking to the formal?”

This quickly got everyone’s attention,
I stayed quiet, as if on detention.
I was interested but it did not show,
Everyone became edgy, ready to blow.

Semlar coughed “Sarah”, we whacked him hard,
“She’s in France, are you a retard?”
Ba says that he wants to ask Alanna
This gets met with “Ba’s gonna be a father!”

Ba hides his face and talks to shank
What did they say? I drew a blank.
I became apprehensive as of then
“Who did you say you are asking again?”

His one word answer, as it sunk into my mind
Sent my heart crazy and put shivers down my spine
The one name that I did not want to hear
“Nicole” said shank, confirming my worst fear.

She was the only girl that I wanted to take
And now she’s about to be stolen by Shank.
The gears in my head started to revolve
A plan was formed and I was resolved.

Shank will NOT be stealing my redhead;
He will be taking someone else instead.
This occupied me for the rest of the day
Shank had become my enemy in a way.

As I looked at my options I exclaimed “damn”
I didn’t know whether it would go to plan
But I was possesed and my fingers would shake
In such a frenzy I made a fatal mistake

One email that I don’t want to recall
I was putting too much faith in it all.
With butterflies in stomach, excitement, nervous,
I pushed “send” and the words did their service

I had no idea that I was already dead,
So I felt better then ever as I climbed into bed.
I had to make certain that shank didn’t ask,
His real words are superior to an email from my arse.

The next day was friday, both a blessing and a curse.
After school was youth group at Ba’s Christian church.
This meant I could ask her for real
Shank could too; so it was not ideal

I had a sense of “Carpe Diem”, Sieze the day!
On top of the world? I was feeling this way.
But behind it all there was a sense of betrayal:
No matter what, one of us is going to fail.

For the first time I could see what paths lay before me
Extreme jealousy or sweet victory, which was it to be?
I was determined to see this through
“Damn you Shank, this is all because of you!”

And so there we we’re on friday night
Soccer in the park; it was a vicious fight.
Does shank suspect why I am here?
If he does then I must fear:

If Shank Knows my thoughts then he’ll be using all speed
He will pounce on Nicole like one full of greed.
But if he doesn’t know my plan he will take his time,
Wondering how to word himself, while I make a beeline.

Either way the race is on, for I will not be waiting long.
Besides I’m wearing sneakers, I can’t lose to his thongs.
For Nicole I begin to search around,
I covered quite a lot of ground.

But what is this? I can not find,
the thing that has plagued my mind.
Where on earth could Nicole be?
Surely she can’t be hiding from me.

The night dragged on and it became clear:
Nicole was not going to be coming here.
I was disappointed until I saw the truth
More time to practice not sounding like a goof.

I withdrew from my thoughts and looked around
There was Ba and at Shank he frowned.
Shank had no idea that he was spoiling Ba’s chance
For Ba to man up and ask Alanna to this dance.

I laughed and let the night take me away
The stress was gone until another day.
And so I had a lot of fun
Before I knew it, the night was done.

I woke up and it was saturday
I felt good but the sky was grey
This was a bad omen that I ignored
I had slept so well! I never even yawned

I turn on the computer, I let it load
I waited and waited until the windows logo showed.
I decided to check email but I had totally forgot,
That email of doom that I should have let rot.

I had new messages but none from Nicole
But I didn’t worry. Today won’t be droll.
So I let the morning go flying away,
Before I knew it, it was the end of the day.

Once again I returned to my email
To find a reply from a certain female.
And there it was waiting for me;
The reply of success, surely.

My heart was beating, I didn’t dare
To read that which was written there.
My hand hesitated for I could not bare,
A reply that causes me to tear out my hair.

But then I decide to take the plunge
This sweat making me as wet as a sponge.
I opened the email that decided fate
No more delay. I could not wait.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t go”
This can not be! No no NO!
“I’m sorry, but I can’t go…with you”
No…After what I’ve been through…

The world had ended, Shank had won
I had failed, the game was done.
Silent tears flowed as I retreated to bed
Sadness was swept up into dreams instead

I woke up feeling depressed the next day
I couldn’t believe that it had happened this way.
But I would not go down like this,
I must stop Shank, make him miss.

I come to school, Shank says “Wassup!”
“What a bummer that she didn’t turn up!”
At recess I find Ba talking to Shank
The subject, “Revenge” and some stuff about tanks.

Ba says that the Bible condones vengence
“How ironic, that means I won’t pay repentance”
“Only if the punishment fits the crime”
“Perfect. You know, that sounds just fine”

So I vowed to stay close to Shank, never give him a chance
To ask Nicole to the formal, they would never dance.
To me it seemed an eye for an eye
I couldn’t forsee how this plan died

And so it was Friday night once more.
We were in a church with leaky walls.
This time Nicole did indeed show
What Shank was thinking we could only know.

An awkward triangle we three made
In a river of emotion I did wade
While Shank stood silent trying to think
And eventually, Nicole ran off to get a drink.

Shank stayed away from her for most of the night
I relaxed and watched some bogans fight.
The next thing I know Shank has disappeared
But before I could swear I saw what I feared.

Shank had a look of confidence on his face
As he turned round the corner I was frozen in place
But what came next was not expected
Shank looked strangely affected

He rounded the corner looking resolved
but as he came back the look had dissolved
From within came an exclamation of glee:
“She didn’t pick him and she didn’t pick me!”

To me it came as a great victory
Shank tried to take it happily
His poker face hid what emotion he felt
He eyed me off till my face almost melt.

He was thinking the same as me
“My ranga was stolen by Herlihy”
I laughed and told him of my fail
He seemed to be turning pale.

My thoughts turned inward, as they do
And I got thinking about things undue
This was not a victory at all,
Oh boy did I just drop the ball

Revenge is a dish best served cold.
That’s what I have always been told.
So of course it came as no suprise
When all of a sudden, I realised:

Nicole would not be at our formal
With me or Shank or someone normal.
I couldn’t help feeling that it was all my fault
I should have locked my hard feelings in a vault

I was blind. Look what I’ve done.
Oh sad consequences of my fun.
As I dealt with reality
It finally sunk into me

This formal is more trouble then it’s worth
Time to get more down to earth.
And so I chose to forget these incidents
I did not want to remember, the memory was rinsed

And so I forgot, I could not recall
Until another email brought me back to it all.
Ba gives the facts as blunt as a plank
“Nicole wanted to say yes to Shank.”

Ba haven’t you heard that ignorance is bliss?
Why oh why did you have to tell me this?
I demand that you now let me know
From where this information flows

But Ba is silent, he does not say
Why these tidings came my way
So I leave the mystery unsolved
And once again the memories dissolved

The formal it did come and go
And I did not toss to and fro
I just came and had some fun
Before I knew it, the night was done.

On the bus I sat with Shank
We talked of all things rank
Hot chicks, porno, renticle tape
But I didn’t stop it, It was too late.

Shank was not an enemy then
“I still wish you asked Nicole again,
Even though we had such fun,
I still wish that she had come”

I hear a sigh, he gathers breath
I’m so tired I feel like death
“We’re still learners” is the last thing he said
But I still wish that I had my redhead.

I haven’t seen Shank since then,
And I have taken to the pen
“We’re still learners” lingers in sight
With that in mind I kiss the Formal good night

I finally can let it go
No more of this horrible show
Months have passed since I last cried.
To the formal, a big “Good bye!”

But no, I had a dream last night
You see, it gave me quite a fright
Not because it was a nightmare
But for what was contained in there:

The formal again, I’m back on the boat
With Ba, Alanna and a red goat.
But there is one I was not expecting to see
Nicole! And she is coming towards me.

But before I can say “This must be a dream”
There appears Shank, his smile like a beam.
Hands clasped firmly with Nicoles, I was enraged at the sight
Such a fury that I woke myself up in the middle of the night.

I do not know what this dream meant
But one thing I know as hard as cement:
This formal will not close it’s door
It will plague my mind forever more.

Alex Herlihy – 2008