Brother Matthew’s Bible Story Mashups: The Story of Lot and Carlotta

There lived in the ancient City of Felare an old couple
named Lot and Carlotta.

Carlotta’s sincerest desire was a child but she was
past the age of childbearing.

One day, a group of maniacal tourists flew into town.

The men tore into Lot’s tent and demanded to
knowCarlotta.

What could Lot do?

For it is written: women are property and the
old ones ain’t worth squat.

The tourists ‘knew’ Carlotta for three days and two nights.

Eight months later Carlotta was miraculously heavy with
child.

“Lord!” Lot exclaimed, “I have sired a Son.

“Praise God” mumbled Carlotta.

Soon it was time for the census.

“We must make haste from Felare and travel to Bethlehem!” said Lot.

But lo! A star rose in the West, which did confuse Lot who went
north to Landica; avoiding a possible brush with fame.

Rights Metropolitan Museum of Art Terms and Conditions
The Adoration of the Shepherds with Saint Catherine of Alexandria

The Adoration of the Shepherds with Saint Catherine of Alexandria
Rights Metropolitan Museum of Art Terms and Conditions

Portrait of Brother Matthew (c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved
The Story of Lot and Carlotta, (c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

Into the Pink

A human being is a part of a whole, called by us ‘universe’, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest… a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness.  This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.

Albert Einstein

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Quicksand or Time

kneel into

self

as thick as

quicksand

or time

as short as

life

the mind goes

fritz!

and still soft

words

are the fashion

is the suck-off

are the

dreams

of

more me

of me

on the street

stretching

absorbed

into

niches

where the

envious

self

fails, extending

contempt

to the

“worthless”

to the

owner

of a sleeping

bag whose

mind has

snapped —

onto mine.

 

(c) Rob Goldstein 2014-2017

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