Rhymes for the Times

By Richard R Van Doren

The author/poet is pushing 70, and over that time he has learned a lot about social injustice, religious hypocrisy, emotional struggles and spiritual revelation. One or more of these poems deal with such themes. These "rhymes" are rather old fashioned in their meter and lyrical structure (more like 17th and 18th century poe

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Van Doren
• Release date: Nov 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781087926650

Richard R Van Doren

Retired ordained minister in mainline Protestant denomination New Jersey born and raised, now living in Indiana M.Div. and M.Phil. in English Lit. Part-time college composition instructor

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Rhymes

For the

Times

by Richard Van Doren

466 S. Woodfield Ln.

Bloomington, IN 47403

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Rhymes for the Times

Poems by

Richard Van Doren

Copyright 2020 Richard Van Doren

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Table of Contents

Something Must Be Said                                    How Did I Get Here?

Doomsday Clock Two                                          It’s All Good

Lost Souls                                                There Will Be a Day

The Few Dreams I Remember                                    To Our Young People

Sometimes Life Is So Confusing                                    Compensation

Truce                                                      Israel

Warts and All: A History of the Christian Church                        Children of Abraham

Part One: The Life, Death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ

Part Two: Some Acts of the Apostles

Part Three: From Gnosticism to Constantine

Part Four: The Imperial State Church

Part Five: The Middle Ages

Part Six: The Later Middle Ages

Part Seven: Martin Luther and Protestantism

Part Eight: Heroes and Villains

Part Nine: The Church in the Modern Age

Part Ten: The 20th and 21st Centuries

Conclusion

Something Must Be Said

(I’m Sorry)

(Re-posted after the racist mass murders in El Paso and Dayton, Ohio.)

(On the one year anniversary of the white supremacist march                                                                            in Charlottesville, Virginia, and on seeing BlacKkKlansman.)

Part 1

There was a time when hate was no crime

And evidence cried from innumerable graves,

Not soldiers of war or a cause wounded for,

But for millions of black folks who perished as slaves.

They bore the pains of kidnappers’ chains

And humiliation in a land far away.

To our shores they were shipped, near starving, and whipped

Whenever they refused to obey.

It’s a secret to few that our economy grew

On the sweat and the tears of dark skin.

Only few would speak in churches each week

That crushing black spirits was sin.

To look on unflinching at a young black male’s lynching

Would never be me here and now.

But I’m often unsure that my thinking is pure

Despite my Sunday morning vow.

Today, I catch my breath when I hear of unjust death,

But there was a time when such news spurred no tears.

People of color were not the same; only celebrities had a name,

And close encounters elicited groundless fears.

In the wisdom of my latter days I see the error of my ways

And wish there was something I could say

To let a black one know that I am not a foe,

But the ugliness is just as bad today.

Angry whites march shouting slurs that blacks are a domestic curse,

So why should I, a white, not share the blame?

I may now have an open mind and look for reasons to be kind,

But to one who does not know me I’m the same.

What else can I do but apologize to you

And assure you there are millions just like me?

If I ever betray this heartfelt plea and make you doubt my sincerity

Don’t hate me back, be merciful and show pity.

(In response to sad stories I hear several times a month.)

Part 2

I remember when gay meant carefree and glad,

Light-hearted, joyful and uplifted, too.

Many still think it is something bad,

So the word is uttered with a sense of rue.

While times have improved it’s a crime to be gay,

At least it says so in sacred verse.

Same sex lovers are reviled today

As queer, unnatural, and deserving a curse.

An abomination so the Bible says,

And straight-laced folks believe it’s truth.

Tolerance forebodes the end of days,

So mothers and fathers banish such youth.

Although it exists at a constant rate

In every culture through history,

Gays continue to be targets of hate,

Embodying unnatural mystery.

Now is the time to make something clear:

Saving the tribe was a task never done.

One couldn’t have children if allowed to be queer,

And that was priority number one.

So Moses wrote an unyielding demand

That same sex liaisons would surely offend

Be fruitful and multiply, the divine command,

Or punishment was the inevitable end.

It’s not so today; there are too many now.

Overpopulation will destroy us all.

But we still say that God won’t allow

Intimacy that fails to fulfill this call.

Letting gays be gays is profound advice

If we are to survive for a much longer time.

The biblical threat does not suffice.

The command that we love is the lesson sublime.

(Columbus Day, the day we celebrate the man who discovered                                                        America, even though there were human beings already here.)

Part 3

Better dead than Red was an oft-heard phrase

Back in the 60s, the Viet Nam days.

It meant that communist oppression and strife

Took the joy, the fun and the hope out of life.

Better to die fighting the Red tidal wave

Because fate was preferred in the literal grave.

Either way the world would end up dead,

So better a coffin than living as Red.

This phrase had other meanings of shame

When one could kill reds with no shred of blame.

A century ago, our land beauty-clothed,

There were folks with red skin who were equally loathed.

Their customs were different from those in the east.

They lived off the earth and the free-roaming beast.

They wasted nothing and left barely a trace

Of surroundings befouled, which is white man’s disgrace.

Weaker by far, they made a brave stand

Against white invaders who wanted their land.

Treaties were sealed and harmony tried,

But over and over the white victors lied.

And every acre reserved for the red

Was seized without pity and thousands left dead.

Indian giver was misunderstood

To mean dishonest red men’s word was no good.

But the color of treachery was actually white

And Native Americans could never be right.

All they could do was surrender, survive.

Or not one red soul would be left alive.

Can anyone wonder why red men don’t trust

The word of a white man over his lust?

We should have memories laden with guilt;

On the blood of the red, also, our country was built.

(More reflections on Charlottesvile and a mass murder at a                                                                                synagogue in Pittsburgh, PA.)

Part 4

When cowardly WASPS need a race to abuse

They frequently turn their attention to Jews.

Sometimes it doesn’t suffice to scorn blacks;

Supremacists target the Jews for attacks.

Gas chambers, terrorist bombs aren’t enough.

The small mind wants all to know he can play rough.

Spray painting swastikas is a way he pretends

He’s a man of great courage, a giant among friends.

The Jew stands for something he most resents,

Hard work, success and keen business sense.

Creative genius, while given to many,

Resides within Jews at a rate that’s uncanny.

Whether it’s science or one of the arts,

Where excellence ends the Jew often starts.

Perhaps it’s the gift of fortunate minds

That results in brilliance of so many kinds.

To learn a Jew’s secret one need only ask:

He simply concentrates on each given task.

Of course the Jew may have a superior brain,

According to American legend Mark Twain.

He does what he must to satisfy need,

What many interpret as self-centered greed.

But jealousy’s really the root of this thought;

Most have a lifestyle that’s been fairly bought. 

They often give help to each other, too,

Which isn’t limited to being a Jew.

They’re simply committed to what most believe,

That lending a hand helps another achieve.

For Jews persecution will always be part

Of their fate in societies lacking in heart.

Do we yield to the feelings from below or above?

Is America danger or committed to love?

(In response to congresswomen of color being told to go home.)

Part 5

One way that many men too often err

Is how to treat women at work or at play.

They/we do things sometimes on a dare

And the fair sex is victimized day after day.

Some