F a t h e r L u k e . com

F a t h e r L u k e . com

Mission Statement

It’s hard to be weird on the internet. There are guys eating shit,
people on fire, women cutting off guy’s cocks.

That picture up there is where Jeffery Dahlmer killed and ate human biengs. The guy with the visor is Andy Andrist. He just came out with a new CD of his comedy material. Andy is the funniest guy I know. I’m the tall geeky guy in the back wearing my hat sideways like some fourteen year old.

People have begun finding what I write and dropping me emails telling me that it is “disturbing”. I get comments like:

“Why did you do that?”

Or even better:

“How could you do such a thing?”

“I didn’t do that,” is the easy answer.

I’m a writer. What you are perceiving
takes place in your own head when you read the words.

But I love that the readers get really, really disturbed and think that I’m actually doing these things. It’s a statement to the blog mentality. Everyone seems to be living vicariously through other people.

I like fiction.

Mostly my life is so weird that it lives like fiction. But, in writing I occasionally take liberties. I’m a writer. Remember? It’s sort of like eating some butterscotch pudding at a friend’s house and then having your friend tell you: “Hey. I put ground glass into your dessert. Your intestines are gonn’a shred in about twenty minutes and you’ll die a horrible death. It’s going to hurt you real bad,” and it’s the truth.

I’m a writer.

I’ve written about a woman shooting a man in the face

I’ve written about a lunatic killing an entire family and all their guests at a party. A piece which I’ve just reworked and posted. I originally wrote it years ago, the piece is called ‘Safari Night’

Some of what I write disturbs me. Do I stop writing it? I haven’t so far. That’s what I do. I’m a writer. I also like decaf coffee and befriending stray animals.

I am not interested in being, as one of my readers put it, a
chronicler of the mundane. If my writing doesn’t move you, then I
haven’t done my job. I’m b-o-r-i-n-g. I’m fucked.

Oh.

Toot Toot !

Did I use a bad word?

I get that a lot also. The fat landed housewives snug with their dickless, wonder white bread husbands too afraid to say cunt, nigger, cocksucker, spic or motherfucker.

Remember, these are words. The action takes place in your
imagination. If the words upset you? Hey, congratulations! You’ve
found your very own imagination and you’re using it to be upset at me.

Do I ‘rilly exist? Who is Father Luke?

I dunn’o. Do you?

Have you ever met me?
If you can’t see, taste, touch, hear, smell or…

...what am I leaving out?

Can’t see
Can’t taste
Can’t touch
Can’t hear
Can’t smell

Sounds like the internet, doesn’t it?

Pure imagination.

Welcome to my playground. I hope that my words will move you.

I
really
really
really
really
‘rilly
hope that my words will move you.

Okay,
Father Luke

Written Tue Jan 24, 10:37 AM

Letter to my dear friend Snake

I don’t rue the day, surprisingly. Love is a muscle. As muscles
tear they become stronger. I am a better man because of all this.
A much, much, much better man.

I have no regrets, Snake. Not one. They both love me, and I am
moving to a place I can walk down the street and go see a movie,
have a big ol’ bowl of some Pho and spring rolls, cruise the used
book stores and mingle with old high school girl friends and
“remember the good old days”. Forgive me, but getting a piece of
tail is a good thing on most days. Most days. Other days I will
enjoy my new adventure. Life is rotten to it’s itty, bitty seedless
core. I enjoy every fucking minute of it.

I’ve my messages turned off now on my website. Any new
message cannot be sent if you go to message me.

After a brief spell, I will be gone. And I will no longer be on the
internet. My presence will always be felt, I’m too big of a fucking
ham to be “gone”. But I have… eh, miles to go before I turn onto
the information superhighway ever again. I’ve been here, and I
shall not be forgotten. The computer is counting down to it’s final
power down, Angel. Tick, tock, tick and fucking talk.

This way to exit the internet. I see the turn off and my blinker is
on. I’m smiling the biggest fucking shit eating grin a man has ever
possibly smiled.

I’m on the back roads now, baby, and I love the dust in my eyes,
the grit in my teeth and the crunchy bugs on my smile.

Catch me. If you can…

I love you,
Father Luke

Written Tue Jan 24, 10:37 AM

Father Luke's Twilight Poem

there was a day that
left itself
forever
in
the present
moment

that day was called bingo

And there came to be a night which
left itself
forever
in
the present
moment

that night was known as doug

Night
and
Day

One could not be one without the other

There is a twilight area
grey and unchanging as the night and as the day
which have left themselves
forever
in
the moment

The twilight is here

The twilight tries to show the day
left as it is
forever
in
the present
moment
how it so loves the day

And The Twilight tries to show the night
which has
left itself
forever
in
the present
moment
that it loves the night, too

The Twilight loves the day
The Twilight loves the night

The twilight is neither the day
that
left itself
forever
in
the present
moment

Nor is the Twilight the night
which is
itself
forever
in
the present
moment

The twilight shares the best of both
and it will forever stand as the difference between the two

Showing them that it loves the best of both of them

forever
in
the present
moment

Written Mon Jan 23, 11:17 PM

thank you, hinty

I look ahead into a dark hallway.

I’m scared.

Behind me I hear laughing and the comforting sounds of friends.

I swallow hard and try once again to see into the darkness which fills the hallway I mean to enter just now.

I feel someone take my hand and squeeze.
Another hand takes my other hand and I feel a gentle tug.

I am no longer afraid.
I go forth with mighty companions.
(For Hinty)

Written Mon Jan 23, 06:14 PM

I can't help you

Red eyed from crying and needing a shave
some face is looking
at me from
the
foggy bathroom
mirror

Well,
I’m a poet

I don’t
need
to
shave

Unlike the face in the mirror
I don’t get red eyed from
crying either

I touch the face in the mirror with my finger tips

and I turn and walk out of the room

Written Sun Jan 22, 02:31 PM

a dark so dark it's brightness blinds me

You will be forever missed

Am I a hypocrite for saying this?

If we are to share an eternity
as partners in hate
then take a moment
before
we continue

Let us rest here
along the bank
of the river of eternity
and look
into the
water
as
it

washes along

I see
reflected
in it’s
glassy surface
two
for whom
life
meant joy

A moment they had
nothing more

if we must
we may continue now
our
hate

it is left to us
to choose

But in the end
love will win

Choose once again

Written Sat Jan 21, 04:51 PM

Roses are Red, Violet is blue...

the knife slid through the skin on her arm

she watched the blood
pool and then drop to the floor

blood went…
...everywhere

sometimes there are no reasons for pain
and so it is up to the individual
to find

reason

She guided the knife
and sliced through the skin on her wrists

red
blood
pooled
and dropped
to the
floor

there was now a reason for the pain

the dark came swiftly

Written Thu Jan 19, 09:50 PM

rocky road

the streets are
primitive
in
Bisbee

gravel
dust
and
during the monsoons
they
are
muddy

walking
the roads
in
winter

there is
dust
gravel
and
occasionally
mud

Dogs run wild
kids smoke
trees lose
their
leaves

I look up
from my dusty brown shoes
as I’m walking down the road

I pull my coat
tighter around
me

I watch the sky
turn
dark

I walk down
the
rocky
dusty
road
being
careful
not to
step
in
any mud puddles

Written Thu Jan 19, 09:04 PM

mule headed

Summer meant more work.

I was a man at eleven years old:
get up, make my bed and go to work.

My father was a psychotic.
He beat his children and raped his wife.

Summer meant picking, cutting and processing fruit.

This sumer, the summer of my eleventh year alive on earth, I found
a peace which would never leave me.

I had gotten up at six, before the sun, and started a pot of coffee to
help ease the shakes I was already getting from my drinking.

No breakfast.
Thanks.

By noon I had put in six hours of work and I was ready for a bit to
eat. I wouldn’t begin my drinking until near twilight.

My favorite place to rest was sleeping on the floor, and I went inside
to rest, and take a break from my daily work.

I’ve read about what has happened since and I have read it
described as Out of Body Experiences.

As I lay on the floor a ringing began in my ears. The ringing began to
increase in volume and I felt my body begin to vibrate. Then there
was light and that’s all there was excepting a peace which knew
no boundaries and I was happy.

As I began to understand that I was happy, the sound began
again in my ears and I felt the vibration in my body and the light
gave way to sight.

That was 35 years ago and that peace has never left me. The only
thing which remained from that experience was the peace.

That’s all that ever remains.
The peace.

Written Thu Jan 19, 06:41 AM

a dark place

heartbreak
is a dark
place

and

this
house
I call

myself

is
a
well
lit
home

I’m not afraid of the dark

I am
afraid
of
dull
lifeless
unimaginative
fears
pretending
to
be clever
new ways
of saying
the same
dull
words

life

I see it everywhere

heartbreak
inspires
me

I
like
it

Time to fall in love

again

Written Thu Jan 19, 04:51 AM

the cold

those
who live
in colder
climates laugh
at me

“cold is relative, Haw Ha!”

I look out the door
the day is turning gray

night
is driving
up the street

I wish that I could
hate life

it just isn’t all that important to me

and cold is a relative
thing
according
to those who know

Written Wed Jan 18, 05:21 PM