The Yardstick

Metal teeth follow pencil line

Sore knees

Bad back


Cut twice measure once

Back he goes


Warmth envelopes bobbing body

Naked knees exposed in icy cold

Weightless comfort, eternal bliss

Scrubbing toes

Washing nose

Fingers wrinkled, getting old


He is in

She is out

Religious men tend the nets

Rotting flesh and pungent smells

Ocean breeeze and ocean catch

In the bucket

In the bin

In the air the stench of sin


What is the measure to which the tradie cuts?

What is the plug that ruins dreams?

Who is in and who is out?


This poem is a belated response to a post in which Bill Muehlenberg labels Rob Bell as a heretic and a comment made by Piper….also about Bell.  “Bye Bye Bell” It seems to me that a new yardstick has been invented, no other measure is needed anymore – agree with gay marriage and your out.


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