Another Song About Me?

I wanted to let you all in on a conversation I was having this afternoon with some friends of mine about worship music. To fully disclose my bias—and it’s probably not much of a secret to those that know me—I have been trying to make sense of my evangelical worship tradition (not merely about the music) for a while now—maybe ever since I was a kid. In fact, I distinctly remember my 7-year-old self sitting in the front row pew of Neighborhood church in Redding, Calif. singing along with the “song director,” Pastor Joe, learning to mimic his fluent hand gestures, seeing myself as co-directing our choir of voices, and wanting to be just like him. Despite the pull I often felt then (and continue to feel now), my experiences with worship music in an Evangelical setting have been too often painfully distracting about the most important things. I love to sing and to freely express myself in music and song and lyric—especially at church—however, the more I’ve encountered the limits of those very worship songs I have grown up with, the more I’ve wanted to move beyond their tunnel vision of American Christianity. The real issue, for me, isn’t simply a resistance to a style of music, but instead a search into, around, through and beyond some of the most fundamental questions/doubts I have had about what some are calling the contemporary “worship industry.” More specifically—and aside from the ominous commercial tones that come from such a term—I have been bothered and saddened by the apparent domestication of our gospel to sappy pseudo-psychological, over-spiritualized, and hyper-individualistic worship songs. Wouldn’t it be nice, I thought, to get a conversation started about the kind of culture we’ve created/are creating as we sing our songs in worship?

This most recent reimagining of worship music started when my friends and I fed some homeless folks at the Jesus Center (a local soup kitchen and recovery house offering hospitality in Chico, Calif.) and it has stayed with me since then. Both during and following that event, I began reflecting about the worship songs I had sung there and I suddenly realized how very limited (in terms of theological and moral imagination) my song choices had been. That is, as long as I stayed within the boundaries of our most popular contemporary worship songs, I sensed there would be something very important and needful missing. These songs, generally speaking, seemed to almost always fall short of or even distort what the Bible clearly included in most (if not all) of its sacred narrative. At the Jesus Center I found myself wanting something more from the songs and, frustratingly, I pretty much knew I would be searching for it without much hope of finding what I was looking for.

It was there that I started wondering and asking questions like these: Could it be that our songs lack the real stuff of life—especially in their spiritualized (i.e., disembodied) themes? Will their messages be a truly authentic alternative for the lives lived by most of the homeless folks at the Jesus Center (who in a lot of ways may not be as interested as you or I in having a deeply personal/intimate mental or emotional worship experience)? I persisted with more questions: God must have had more in mind for our worship music than the self-centered stereotypic songs about how much we love God, how much He loves us (spiritually, that is), and how great it is to be saved, right? How has this sanitized version of God’s all-inclusive dreams for the world crept its way into our worship services? Will we ever get beyond self-absorbed mental massages and romantic (self-congratulatory?) love songs about Jesus? Or will we ever get into deeper missional stories about Love’s embodiment within our local households and communities?

The majority of the contemporary worship songs I have come across seem to exclusively offer a dualistic (that is, unearthly) and individualized (that is, private) version of the Bible’s message, which, unfortunately, set theological (that is, practical) limits to one’s real relationships-in-community as well as how we understand the world God finds utterly loveable (see John 3:16). The social, contextual, and/or historical notes and themes found throughout the Bible’s poems, narratives, letters, and prophecies—along with our current struggles and longings for community—turn out to be strangely absent and/or passive in our contemporary music. It’s as if God were only interested in our personal well-being (i.e., prosperity), on the one hand, and our disembodied soul in heaven (i.e., abstract security) on the other! Especially for our homeless friends—who may just want to get something to eat or to find a “fix” that will satisfy their addictions (or perhaps to give us middle-class White folks a few awkward moments!)—the language of self-love probably rings a bit incomplete. After all, do our songs really include them? When we apparently (and unwittingly) baptize/mythologize a Jesus who dresses himself up in the American Dream, how could we expect anything different? When we present God as someone who ultimately only shows concern for our individual mental (or spiritual) state and wants nothing more than to tell us how His sacrifice made possible a salvation after we’re dead, why would homeless folks give a shit? It’s not that I’m questioning the goodness of our worship music per se, just that something significant occurred in me as I sang some of my favorite worship tunes in that context.

Truthfully, though, I’m a hypocrite. In fact, I say God concerns himself with our whole lives as members, participants, and co-creators in His Kingdom. I try to embody Jesus’ revolutionary and holistic Way (Luke 4:18-19). But most of my favorite Evangelical worship songs were created in a spiritual vacuum of sorts (more or less Gnostic). So, when it comes to what the Empire is selling, I am one of the first to get in line—quickly seduced by the consumer culture of greed made spiritual through poor lyrics.

This realization of mine begs certain questions for me to wrestle with. For example, how different could my worship culture be if the songs I sing grew locally out of a particular context instead of from foreign impositions by placeless psychology or self-help reading? In other words, can we create art that is both spiritually incarnational and deeply sacred? The Hebrew and New Testament scriptures seem to demonstrate local and traditional (i.e., native) ways to prophetically reimagine culture and truth in light of God’s ongoing dreams for His creation. How can we embrace this model, on the one hand, and get past the cultural/political/economic traps set for us on the other? Who would want to be known for a culture (famous for their artistic expression) which ignored or, worse yet, tacitly endorsed the very tools used for destroying neighbors and communities? I know I must sound crazy—and I’ve likely exaggerated my case in order to make a point—but what I’m getting at is this. Maybe it’s time we write some new worship songs that are more shaped by Christ’s mission in our place. Want to experiment with me?

Author Bio:: Jason is married to a beautiful Peruvian gal named Julissa (who, incidentally, knows how to make the best ‘comida peruana’ in the whole wide world!). His current life consists of grad school, work, and procrastination–the real work of any serious student!

The Last Breakfast

“Is Jesus here yet?” Simon Peter asked.

“Not yet, but he should be arriving shortly. We sent for him,” Matthew said.

There were four apostles in the room: Simon Peter, Matthew, James the Just and Philip. A large table sat in the center, and cushions and mats were spread around the table on the floor.

“Who’s bringing the wine?” Simon Peter asked.

“The wine’s over in the corner on the table,” Philip said.

“Did anyone think to bake any bread?” Simon Peter asked. He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to him.

“Mary dropped some off,” Philip said. “She said she had some laundry to do and would come back later.”

Judas Iscariot and Simon the Caananite walked in.

“Judas Iscariot, did you bring the chariot?” Simon Peter asked.

“Very funny, Big Si,” Judas said. He called Simon Peter ‘Big Si’ and Simon the Canaanite ‘Little Si,’ in order to differentiate them. Also because it bugged Simon Peter to be called that, as he was still struggling some with getting his weight down.

“Just call me ‘Peter,’ Judas,” Simon Peter said.

“Oh, so you’re the Rock? Sounds like some kind of wrestling moniker. Are you thinking of giving up this line of work and going into the ring?” Judas asked.

“Hey, Jesus called me that. I didn’t make it up!” Peter said.

“Yeah, but I think he’s getting tired of you always asking for the keys to the Kingdom,” Simon the Caananite said. They all laughed, except for Peter.

Jesus, brothers James and John, Andrew, Thaddeus and Bartholomew walked in.

“Jesus is here,” James said.

“And I’m on his right side,” John said.

“Guys, quit fighting. We’re just here to eat some breakfast,” Jesus said.

James and John softened their looks at each other and smiled.

“Okay, who’s missing?” Peter asked.

Jesus started counting heads.

“Lord?” Peter said.

“Everyone is here except Thomas,” Jesus said.

“Why’d you have to count?” Peter asked.

“Simon Peter, there’s a time and place for everything. It’s not necessary to work miracles that have no meaning. Now, let’s gather ’round and have a meal. Thomas will get here when he does. I don’t believe we need to wait for him.”

They all sat down. Philip brought over the bread and wine.

“Philip, aren’t you going to eat?” Jesus asked.

“Well, Lord, I’m not really that hungry,” Philip said.

“What?” Simon Peter said. “You’ve already eaten this morning?”

Philip looked down and rearranged his robe.

“Well,” Philip said, “I did have a small snack.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have anything to eat,” Peter said.

“Peter, Peter,” Jesus said. “When did you last eat?”

“Lord, My God, I haven’t had anything since last night. I think anyone who’s already eaten this morning shouldn’t eat with us,” Peter said.

“That seems rather childish, don’t you think?” Jesus asked.

Philip sat down quietly.

“Philip, how long ago was your snack?” Bartholomew asked.

“I don’t know, Bart. It was after sun up.”

“What are you getting at?” Jesus asked.

Bartholomew looked around at everyone.

“Maybe if it has been a while, then it would be okay. Maybe if we said, ‘if you haven’t eaten within the last two hours, or since sunrise, then it would be okay to eat with us.’”

“Bart, why all the rules? All of you, haven’t you been listening to me? I suppose I even have to tell you how to eat and drink? Which hand takes the bread? Come on!”

“I have, Lord!” Thomas said. He came walking in confidently. “I doubt you’d really care about the time. Am I right?”

Thomas grabbed a cushion and sat down.

“What, just wine and bread? What kind of breakfast is this?” Thomas asked.

“You know we’re almost out of cash,” Judas said. “We’ll have to eat light for a couple of days.”

“Thomas, Peter, all of you. I want you to do this in memory of me.”

“Do what?” Matthew asked.

“Break bread. This is my body,” Jesus said. He raised a piece of bread up in front of him for all to see.

“Whoa, Lord! What? That’s a piece of bread,” Judas said.

“No, Judas, it is not. By raising this up, I have changed it from bread into my body. And I will raise the cup, and change the wine into my blood.”

Andrew put his cup down and looked into it. The others looked at Jesus in disbelief.

“I want you to do these things to remember me,” Jesus said.

“You’re leaving?” John asked. “Can you give me the keys first?”

“Lord, we broke bread last night. Do we need to again today?” James asked.

“You broke bread last night?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah, we did. You weren’t there. So, I’m thinking, why do we need to again this morning? I mean, didn’t last night count?” James asked.

“What time last night?” Thomas asked.

“Does it matter?” James asked.

“Well, I’d like to know when you guys are getting together without me,” Thomas said.

Andrew looked up.

“Where were you last night, Thomas?” Andrew asked.

“What’s it matter to you?” Thomas said.

“You always seem to miss our evening meals, that’s all.” Andrew said.

“He was with a woman,” Judas said.

“So? I saw you going into the temple. What was that about?” Thomas asked.

Simon Peter stood up.

“It sounds like you both sinned,” Peter said.

“Yeah, so maybe you shouldn’t eat this morning either,” Matthew said.

“You should confess your sins first,” Thaddeus said.

“Guys, guys!” Jesus said. “Why all the bickering? Why can’t we just enjoy a meal together?”

Those standing sat back down. A woman appeared in the doorway.

“My Lord,” she said. She knelt down in the room.

“Give her a blessing, Jesus,” Peter said.

“Come here, woman, and share some bread with us,” Jesus said.

“What?!” Peter said.

The woman stood and hesitated.

“Woman, my body and blood are to be shared by all,” Jesus said.

She looked at him strangely, then quickly grabbed a piece of bread and ran out of the room.

“See? You give them a handout and where are the thanks?” Peter asked.

“Peter!” Jesus said. “Do not limit those who want to be with me. Why put up all these barriers? Do not underestimate how sharing in my body and blood can change you, or anyone.”

Bartholomew dipped some bread into his wine. He kept his eyes low.

“I want you to remember me, to everyone,” Jesus said. “This table is open to all.”

“Yes, Lord,” Peter said.

Author Bio:: John Rehg is a writer, a programmer (that’s where the money comes from), a poet and a non-disillusionist. (That means I don’t get disillusioned by all the crap that goes on today in God’s name, or not.)
He writes weekly reflections for several Ecumenical Catholic churches around the country. This was not one of them.

He Faces His Fate

Is what we’re looking for
Just another empty promise?
A house full of stuff
But without any love,
A good idea
But poorly executed,
A good execution
Of an ill-conceived plan?
Or is it trust in a man
Whose earth tones
And bracket status
Whose accent
And point of origin
Tighten the noose
Of civil religion
He faces his fate
With bilingual grace
Unknown in these parts.

Author Bio:: John O’Hara is trying to follow Jesus. He posts Oakland-flavored reflections frequently at his blog, and is initiating a conversation between the emergent and pentecostal movements at Emergent Pentecostal.

Nashville Sonnet

Soft Rhythms of the Rustic Air

Flowing, ever flowing along with the madness of the river below

Minds changing during deep meditative states of ecstasy

It is about time for us all to flee the horrors of the mud people

Stampedes at the unexpected hour, yes herds all over are on the move

Time, time is ticking away on the clocks of societies slave masters

Moving along toward the deep sleep with little hope of ever truly awakening

Dividends on divisions/who really pays?

Burdens upon the shoulders of poets never heeded

True wisdom often mistaken for lunacy

Resting weary heads on pavement pillows prepared for tombstones

Prophets on street corners announcing that we have fields to own

Except none of us knows anything about how to farm

The walls are shedding tears from observations made

What is this world watching with its pale, broken blue eyes?

God thunders down from the Holy Mount and commands repentance

Keep pushing the envelope but remember there are letters inside

The road to excess and spiraling paths to contentment

We can no longer continue to shower ourselves with such illusions

Rising SON, glistening waters of a new world, quenching of inner flames

Endless whisperings from the Void

Rushing tidal waves of golden silence now deafens us

The American Dream has become freedoms curse

Back stabbing rituals fuel the Utopian Nightmare

Tribal Ancestors scream from their tombs for validation

Why have so few understood the poet’s vision?

We who see life as if in perfected youth

The overpowering continuum that is time

Can we at least stop to catch our breath?

Heads colliding with ceilings placed by those who say they know better,

Now hope is nailed down to the floor

Overdue tabs at the bar paid for by religion

Now enlightened, we seek to rise above the social norms

Ancient mountains now splitting from the fisherman?s curse

Who has the real power if the people are the ones defending liberty?

Tossing pesticides unto the very vine that has fed them

Drowning babies in placenta waterfalls for the sake of convenience

Putting our various stains upon the Cross but the results seem the same

Hobo colonies dining on trash can souffle?

No need to dig too deep in these forgotten lands

For some wells are better off capped

Great cosmic war triggered by a futile revolution

Stuck in the shadows, just out of reach of enlightenment

You cannot behold the truth unless it decides to embrace you

Dark enchanted forests and a full bottle of wine illuminate the well worn path

And still the candles burn in the young maiden’s window

Who will be the one to make it past those sullen guards?

With longing hearts and parched lips?

Exhaustion sets in and fires dimly burn

Children of the night, my ancient circle of kinship, we must embrace truth

Mysteries lose their edge once the thrills become stereotypes

Maybe fear should get a good grip and strangle us once again

Heart begins to bleed in order for love to be gained

Integrities last great copulation before the Golden Era resumes

Songs of the soul released into our finite reality

Spring time strolls at the midnight hour

Pavement pimps become priests collecting the offerings

Wolves on the hunt for there is fresh meat in the herd

Soft, slow rhythms of the street lamps gaining wisdom

Shadow man still haunts the dreams of my tortured youth

Caged beast within me longing for sweet release

Soldiers ready for war but how much time have they spent on the cause?

How long before they end up as a footnote in some politician’s speech?

Alcohol induced sunrises, tried to sleep but that dusty Bible kept choking me

Author Bio:: Jason Cormier is the Founder of Emergent Minded Christ Followers.Com. He has been married to Brandy since 2002 and has a four year daughter Gabriella. They are expecting their second child in September. He is a poet/blogger/and wannabe author seeking a publisher.

laugh out loud

Crazy!

Is the word for the last hundred years of human history. The good, the bad, and the straight up nasty. The question is what’s gonna happen in the next century? If our planets destiny has to do with us we need some new recipes and at the same time learn lessons from the ancestors. New and old treasures. The wise men say there has to be pain kissing pleasures. And if its worth having it won’t come easy. Let’s take the m in me flip upside down and form a new we. See life as an art form and lets seek to master it. We can’t control the script but we can enhance it a bit, it starts by giving a shit.

So we’re sorry, for our fear bound behavior.

Sorry, for not loving our neighbors.

Sorry, for making the empire our Savior.

We repent in ashes and sackcloth fashion as we turn to everlasting to cultivate compassion as the world is crashing. We won’t worry in our peculiar stance. We’ll cling to love as we cry and then dance. We’ll live life preparing for the feast and laugh out loud in the belly of the beast.

Ha ha ha ha ha
laugh out loud in the belly of the beast.

Ho ho ho ho ho
laugh out loud in the belly of the beast.

He he he he he
laugh out loud in the belly of the beast!

Author Bio:: A grocery store clerk named Jesse by day, an aspiring rapper named e-majyn by night. Full time seeker, asker and knocker. Born and raised in mountianous Zig Zag, Oregon currently residing in the Rose City- Portland, OR.

Soundtrack for Revolution

Settling down to watch the widely successful 2006 movie Dreamgirls, I anticipated getting the usual randomness of songs bursting onto the screen from nowhere that has come to be expected in Broadway adaptations. A great deal has been said about actress/singer Jennifer Hudson’s big debut and about the catchy tunes on display throughout the film. But there was a larger story in Dreamgirls that seems to have been missed by media reviews: the struggle of black artists to break out of the segregated world of radio and music and into the mainstream (read: white) listening world. The songs were not just beautifully sung sonnets about relationships gone awry and catfights among group members, but cries of a larger social movement happening in the streets. In one powerful but neglected scene, Effie White (Jennifer Hudson) rushes out into the neighborhood after an argument with the group and her manager/boyfriend. Waiting for her on the block outside is an angry riot all too common to the tense racial scene of that time. People were desperate for change. In their effort to appeal to a larger audience, the soul of the music was largely cropped out of The Dreams repertoire. Songwriter C.C. White sums it up when he asks their manager, “Isn’t music supposed to express what people are feeling?” Manager Curtis Taylor Jr. (played by Jamie Foxx) responds “Music is supposed to sell.” Well, despite Curtis’ sentiment, music does more than stuff pockets. It sheds light on stories often being told only in the underground world of grassroots revolution.

Behind the scenes of the latest newsflash or journal cover story, there has always been a catchy melody or a powerful vocal hook. Where movements of change, empowerment, justice, love, or even anger have swept through, a musical soundtrack can usually be found lurking as a backdrop for the story of revolution. Rhythm and blues melodies with an underlying message of determination and hope were transformed into battle cries across the nation during the civil rights movement. Agitated rock and roll rifts rung out about the injustice of sending sons and daughters to Vietnam. Rap lyrics were penned by the disenfranchised gathered together by common racial and class tensions. Garage bands everywhere donned their flannel shirts and brought in a movement characterized as “grunge,” signaling more than just a shift in musical taste, but a generation of angst, social alienation, and apathy. And despite many critics hesitations, what has come to be known as “pop” paints a social portrait all of its own, displaying a generation unique in its own desires and pursuits.

Critics have been quick to dismiss the “emerging church” as a fad. New Monasticism, as just one of many expressions of the supposed “fad” has also had its fair share of doubters. In rebuttal, voices from within the movement have given theological support to the nature of their experiment. Still others have displayed examples from the history of Christianity that point towards the same phenomenon in times past. But I’m wondering, what can be labeled as the soundtrack for this movement? To identify a song writer or band, we would first have to identify the core principles of the movement. Authenticity, hope, imagination, openness, mission, urban, love, justice—some of the same buzz words used by other social revolutions—have come to the Church. But what groups and artists carry our “sound” throughout the days and nights of ecclesiastical and social renewal in the 21st century?

Who best captures the spirit of the emerging church (or whatever expression of it you prefer)? If as C.C. White suggests, that “music is supposed to express what you are feeling,” who is doing the expressing for this era of change? Is there a particular genre? A certain lyric, artist, group, or song? List a few of your ideas here and give some reasons for your suggestion. Let’s create a “soundtrack” for the revolution we see happening around us in our churches, in our networks, and in our communities.

Author Bio:: Michael Cline considers himself a freelance pastor and and over-employed learner who currently attends Bethel Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota. When not snuggling with his wife, he’s blogging here.

grinding bones and making bread

uh. . . well. . . this is my first post on Jesus Manifesto and, well, I tend to process theology and social ethics via poetry, at least at first. hope this is enjoyed.

PROGRESS

Laborers work to the rhythm
of the dirge
of the slow grind of a thousand paychecks.

Bone on bone
percussion.

Blood and grease in every single
joint and hinge of this great
industrialized
machine.

Blood lubricates
every
moving
part.

The machine will not
take no for an answer.
With mechanized
rhetorical
rebuttals.

“Poison the fruit with labor!”
Breathes the serpent.
“Poison labor
with
power!”

Dog dines on dog, and
each brother
will eat
the other.

The lie is consumption.
Yet we are created
for
pure
experience.

Author Bio:: Hailing from columbus ohio, Michael Tawd is a member of a small Anabaptist emergent community. one of the co-founders of Kingdomnow.org i’m currently a critic/stone thrower-at-large living in a beautiful glass house.

Some Subversive Verses

I was inspired to share this song after reading the article by Brandon Rhodes about taking captive the rhetoric of the American Faith and subverting it. I don’t have the tune written down anywhere, it’s just in my head. But imagine it sung like a sea shanty.

Freeing the Colors

I was a prisoner on the ship
And forced to go below.
And through the night the battle raged
With bursting rocket’s glow.

And when the morning came at last,
I rose and went to see
Who had won and who had lost
And who was made more free.

Across the bay, I strained to view
The land where I’d been born.
And from the fort the banner waved
Though blackened, shredded, torn.

Yet turning ’round, I saw again,
From each embattled mast,
Those colors same, in different form,
Proud to the very last.

Then suddenly the deck did heave,
There rose a sickening swell,
Lifting the bodies of all the slain,
The bitter truth to tell.

refrain:
Red was the blood upon their hands
And white the pallor of death.
Blue the depths that swallowed whole
Their bravest and their best.
Their bravest and their best.

The wave washed by and in its place
I saw a mountain there.
Upon it was a table laid
With earth’s abundant fare.

And seated ’round from every race
Were they who had withstood,
And bowed no knee, nor gave salute
To king or national god.

And to their host their voices raised,
Their anthems, ceasing never.
Power and Justice and Freedom alone
Belong to our Savior forever.

refrain:
Red was the blood he shed for them
And white each righteous deed.
Blue the heavens from which they shine,
The truly brave and freed.
The truly brave and freed.

Author Bio:: Sara is a regular wife and mother, trying to figure out how to be a Christian Pacifist Anarchist, in that order.

7 Flicks that Subvert

The other day, someone asked me if I knew of any movies that demonstrate the radical nature of the Gospel. In other words, they wanted to know of any flicks that they could show their parents that would help their parents understand the radical stuff that they’ve gotten into.

When Jesus started preaching, he didn’t jump into philosophical arguments or a list of propositions. Usually, he raised cognitive dissonance by challenging his listeners’ perceptions (the Sermon on the Mount does this) or he used provocative parables (parables don’t illustrate simple truths so much as they raise ethical dilemmas) or he acted in ways that upset common sensibilities (by eating with the wrong people or healing on the wrong day).

When it comes to challenging perceptions, telling provocative stories, and upsetting common sensibilities, films can sometimes further (and deeper) than cleverly written works of non-fiction or thoughtful arguments.

And so, I offer my list of seven flicks that subvert conventional wisdom and help bridge towards a kingdom vision:

1. To End All Wars: Allied prisoners-of-war in a WWII Japanese prison camp attempt to love their enemies.
2. The Mission: A Jesuit missionary in South America struggles against colonialism while a Portuguese convert grapples with his own violent nature. This film raises painful questions about the history of missions and the relationship between church and state.
3. Children of Men: This film demonstrates the human capacity for marginalizing “the other.” In its bleak portrayal of growing human despair, glimpses of hope are all the more poignant.
4. Maria Full of Grace: A gritty story of an illegal immigrant’s journey to the United States. The film gives a fairly objective perspective on illegal immigration and the drug trade.
5. The Woodsman: A sympathetic take on the life of a child molester trying to make a new life after he is released from prison. This film forced me to ask myself, “how do I show love to one of the ‘least of these’ if he is guilty of hurting the ‘least of these’ himself?”
6. Network: Upon discovering that he is going to be fired after decades as a news anchor, an aging anchorman announces to viewers that he commit suicide during his last broadcast. Seeing that it helps ratings, greedy execs exploit the anchorman’s devolving emotional state in front of millions of viewers. This satire from 1976 holds up fairly well as a critique of the exploitative nature of modern media.
7. Dogville: A woman on the run is grudgingly accepted by a cautious secluded town. Their fragile acceptance is shattered as hospitality gives way to human nature. This film (which reminds a LOT of the writings of Flannery O’Conner) is an excellent exploration of hospitality and grace in America.

Any films I should add to the list?

selling indulgences

mirth filled faces
attached to bundled-up bodies
wandering downtown minneapolis
a winter wonderland
hey, let’s hop the light rail
to the Mall of America
amusement for the whole family
stores lined up like gumball machines
we skip through this indoor shiny city
with heads crowned in consumer glory
little golden birds twitter in our ears
wooing us, cooing us
as our eyes glitter like sapphires

sing a sappy song
dance a joyful jig
we’re on our way to a brighter day!

heading to Midtown Market
to sample the flavors of the world
whoa, it’s like a frozen Mexico over here
but I’ll have some east African cuisine
’cause I’m feeling adventersome
and let’s get some Starbucks on the way home
but make it fair trade
its good to be home now
but I ate too much
I’ll go to the co-op tomorrow
and start over fresh
a healthier me brought to you by
organic produce and textured soap

sing a sappy song
dance a joyful jig
we’re on our way to a brighter day!

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