He Looks On The Heart

So, what now does it profit, tell me sisters, can you say,
When you cover up your head as you prophesy or pray?
If you’re froward to your husband, or you disobey your dad,
Does a scrap of “holy” cloth change your heart to good from bad?

And my brothers, fellow husbands, Peter Pan to my mind springs,
Seeing how you will not grow up and forsake your childish things.
Do you think that wearing pants fulfills the standard set by Christ,
Of laying down your life each chance to be the savior of your wife?

But a husband who will cherish, and a wife who will submit,
Show the Gospel to the World more than what’s woven, sewn or knit.
Only thus a wife with covered head, and man who looks the part,
Can impress the One who looks (beyond the outside) on the heart.


Copyright 2005 by Larry Naselli

Why was this waste made?

Why was this waste made of costly perfume?
The smell of such squandering's filling the room.
It could have been sold to help out the poor,
but now its just making a mess on the floor.

So say the blind guides and ambitious men,
presuming to speak for the One Who has said,
"it is a good work to pour out your best,
to sit at My feet, to lie on My breast."

For those who most love me, most gladly obey,
and bear an abundance of fruit on the way.
Remember your first love -- your heart's been misplaced
if you think spending time loving Me is a waste.

Why was this waste made? To pour out a heart
too much overflowing to want to depart
from worshiping Jesus in fervent embrace,
without a concern for the time or the place.


Copyright 2004 by Larry Naselli

The Final Mostaccioli

Like a sword of Damocles above a crimson lake,
the final mostaccioli dangles high above my plate;
though hardly superstitious, still I'm tempted to believe
that this doughy delectation has some mischief up its sleeve.

So tenuously skewered on my fork, that noodle writhes,
unwilling, like his fellows, to be swallowed up alive.
I might have seen it coming, had I been on the alert,
and parried this assault by putting on a darker shirt.

But that reluctant pasta has escaped my forked grasp;
I watch it (like slow-motion) plummet toward a saucy splash.
There isn't time to dodge it, nor to move aside the platter
as, to my horror, marinara on my shirt is splattered.

I ought to know by now to take appropriate precaution;
aware it's hopeless such a stain will come out in the washin',
O' how many speckled garments will it take to demonstrate
that the final mostaccioli's better left upon my plate?


Copyright 2004 by Larry Naselli, All rights reserved.

The Smell of a Shepherd

Roses are red, violets are blue,
and that odor, my friends, is coming from you!
It got on your clothing while healing the lame,
as you cared for the flock and learned all their names;

when you sat in their houses and shared in their bread,
and weren't too busy to hear what they said.
You can't get it out now, it's on you for good,
why, you smell just like sheep . . . as a good shepherd should.



Copyright 2003, Larry Naselli

Wine on the Ceiling

Wine on the ceiling, wine on the floors,
new wine exploding now out the front doors,
and an old weathered wineskin, quite bursted asunder,
in the place that once sparkled with signs and with wonders.

Wine on the ceiling, wine on the floors,
The leftover traces of those who've found more
of his intimate presence and passion divine,
they're searching for wineskins as new as the new wine.

Like all the King's horses and all the King's men,
some try to salvage those wineskins for when,
in their fond flights of fancy, the throngs will return,
and declare, just like old times,
"God, do not disturb!"



Copyright 2001 by Larry Naselli

The Father's Smile

you sit amidst a heap of rubble, lambs upon your knee,
and by all standard measures, you should prob'ly ask, "why me?"
but all those things that have gone wrong endure but for a while,
at last your LIFE is right because you've found The Father's smile.


Copyright 2002 by Larry Naselli

REQUIEM FOR A ONCE-GREAT PARTY

it's hard to believe it's been only two years
since that horrible morning of terror and tears
when at last Dems of that Vietnam generation
gave first place to defending our vulnerable nation
when they stood by the side of the Commander in Chief
did you know that their act would be shallow and brief?
from the moment they sensed it was safe to resume
they reverted to gloom and they forecasted doom
yes, they've seized on each charge that might sever the bond
between People and President united so fond
first "he's moving too slow," then "he's rushing to war,"
from "connecting the dots," to "Bush Knew!" and there's more:
there was "No Blood For Oil," and "the French won't approve,"
and "without the U.N. we must not make a move."
"It's a quagmire," they claimed, and "the looting's too great,"
"the Museum's been emptied," (correction on page 48)
they bewailed "no food," and bemoaned "lack of water,"
scarcely noting Saddam no more rapes wives and daughters.

sixteen words caused such outrage and feigned indignation
by that same crowd that shilled for Slick's prevarications

yes, the Party of Truman and young JFK
now appears to have totally vanished away

like a stampede of lemmings, gone over a ledge
Dems have taken our politics beyond water's edge

the Dems saw how our enemies viciously kill
but they just do not get it, and they just never will.



Copyright by Larry Naselli September 11, 2003

Love in a Barn

I know a special family with hearts so kind and big
they took a place designed to harbor chickens, cows and pigs;
and through the labor of their love, transformed a dormant space,
so friends and strangers both alike could find a welcome place.

Just step across their threshold and you'll know that you're accepted;
by-passers (even crashers) are received as if expected.
Their door is always open, people come to sleep or dine,
or drop by just to say "hello" and spend some friendly time.

Because they live the love of Christ, that welcomes low or high,
this family's found a way, at home, to let their light so shine.
Oh sure, it ain't no Taj Mahal, nor villa on the M?rne;
but those can't match the love we've found, while living in a Barn.


To Len & Claudia Kruse and Family,
on behalf of the Naselli Family, "Barn Guests" February 28 - May 31, 2002,
with unspeakable gratitude for your Christlike generosity
in opening your home to us, and opening our eyes to God's heart of love and acceptance.


Copyright 2002, Larry Naselli

How's your couch time?

When late at night you hear the sound of little feet approaching
You know upon your sweet repose they soon will be encroaching

When little ones perceive that Mom and Daddy's love is slouching
Because they haven't seen you spending ample time a' couching
They may awake, traverse the house and climb into your bedding
Until you woefully lament the sleep you aren't getting

If by a simple recipe you could avert this poaching
Then would you at my word accept a bit of parent coaching?

Come home and first embrace your wife, then squeeze her like a melon
Ignore the kids, although they may be pestering and yellin'
For fifteen minutes let them wait, disdaining all their cries
Sit with your wife upon the couch and gaze into her eyes.


Copyright 2002 Larry Naselli

Heart's Desire

To come to Abba as a son
and boast of Him to everyone
to see myself, and others too
through Jesus' blood with vision true

To overcome the fear of failure
and have a passion for my Savior
to show my love so shamelessly
and talk to Him with honesty

To obey the words He daily gives me
and know that He is always with me
as my only source of power and direction
to let me see the rejects with pity and affection

I long for Jesus to express Himself
to the World and His Flock through me,
that I might daily experience His Love and Grace
and use the gifts He's put in me.

To fulfill the dreams that came from Him
and reach His heart each time I pray
to be so very full of Him
that I have enough Jesus to give away.


Copyright 2003 by Larry Naselli